#TWO THOUSAND ONE HUNDRED SIXTY WORDS YOU GUYS

[beigetiger]

Kind of a continuation of this post, but I want to talk about fascism in Skulduggery Pleasant and how it’s handled, especially since it’s so relevant to our world at the moment (escapism through books? Never!) and because my interest has been captured by the way that this series clearly lays out impacting factors, where everything comes from, how it gets worse, and so on. Lot of stuff to handle, and I’m actually going to try and organize this beforehand instead of just vomiting words into my phone. I’ll also give you all the text cut of mercy.

I might have mentioned this before, but phase 2 (and by the looks of it, phase 3) depict and focus on fascism within their societies. There are several examples of this in phase 2 alone.

For example, Mevolent is introduced back in Kingdom of the Wicked, but the reality of living in a society ruled by him is most properly shown in Seasons of War. His society seems almost perfect for the sorcerers that live within it, but that’s only because those who didn’t fit the mold perfectly were killed. He has thought police and is personally able to track what his subjects are thinking about. And, of course, the Leibniz sorcerers dehumanize, oppress, and enslave their mortals because it’s all they’ve ever been taught to do. This particular flavour of society is probably least reflected in our current society of all the examples that I’m going to talk about, so I’m not too stressed about this one.

There’s also Martin Flanery, the very unsubtle stand-in for Trump. I’m mid about him as a character, but I think the series did a good job showcasing the difference between Creed, who’s calm and calculated and takes advantage of his follower’s rage, and Flanery, who feels and acts upon his rage just as much as any of his followers, while also showing that Flanery is still a threat. His lack of calculation doesn’t make him an easier opponent to defeat, it just makes him more of a wild card. And his soldiers are very much a reflection of this as well. Flanery’s soldiers use Splashes to become stronger but often have roid rage as a result, and they constantly get into fights and kill each other, causing incredible collateral damage in the process. The cops who worked under Creed, on the other hand, tended to be a lot colder, sneakier, and all-around more strategic, reflecting the climate that they’re thriving in. This isn’t just limited to Flanery, but this series also does a really good job at depicting the sheer idolization that these literal fascists are regarded with by their subjects and how it effects others.

But enough of that, I’m now going to talk about the whole reason I decided to write this stupid thing: Roarhaven and sorcerer culture as a whole.

Roarhaven post LSoDM has a whole bunch of factors impacting it and it’s social development, but one of the more major ones is sorcerers finally being given a place to be themselves and develop their own culture as opposed to just adopting whatever the mortals are currently doing. Sorcerers didn’t really have much of an individual culture for hundreds and hundreds of years because they intentionally repressed themselves so that mortals wouldn’t find out about them and possibly try to fight them. There was some slight amount of culture in places like when Roarhaven was a tiny village or those streets that are entirely owned by sorcerers, but those places were often bitter and in poverty in order to make themselves go under the radar, and so would only have offered comfort to certain kinds of sorcerers who just want others that they feel understand them.

But although the Sanctuaries may agree that silence and repression of diversity is the correct way to go about their lives, it’s extremely clear that there are many sorcerers who disagree with that (see Mevolent and his followers) and it’s clear that the Sanctuaries never bothered to stamp these disagreers out entirely as Mevolent did to his, only punishing them if they tried to reveal themselves to the mortals. This left these people alive to spread their ideologies to others.

And as I said earlier, the war that covered nearly the entire planet and was somehow kept from mortals for hundreds of years is also a huge factor for sorcerers. Between that and the inter-Sanctuary war, nearly the entire sorcerer population is a war veteran who was stood witness to or even committed absolutely sickening acts that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. They have nearly nothing resembling actual functional therapy and PTSD is probably incredibly common among the population. The Corrival kids, the ones too young to have been in war, have had to grow up in these environments and being raised by these people, and we see so clearly in phase 2 just how much generational trauma impacts people and ruins uncountable numbers of lives. Sorcerers also pretty much never die of old age. A select few of them live to be old, yes, but even they always die violently. There is no peaceful or happy ending for sorcerers, their lives are dark from the beginning through to the end, even to the point where the knowledge that they’re going to die acts as a comfort instead of a curse.

The sorcerers have also watched mortals commit countless genocides and acts of horrific discrimination and destruction and have been unable to do anything about it due to this idea enforced by their governments that they cannot interfere with the affairs of mortals, and that the mortals must simply learn to be better on their own. Hell, a lot of sorcerers have probably been directly impacted by these genocides, and their friends were probably tormented by the fact that they could do nothing about it. And due to their lack of culture and overall opportunity to do these things over the years because of the war, many of the sorcerers (especially the students who weren’t soldiers) start to feel just a little too good about themselves and their people, pointing out that they’ve never done things like that while failing to realize that the reason they’ve never really done that is because they’ve never been given an opportunity to do so.

And of course in modern times, there are issues like climate change, impending war, and increasing discrimination that sorcerers still aren’t allowed to do anything about despite living in the same world and still being impacted by, leading to a sort of “I wonder if things would be better if we were in charge”, as discussed often by Corrival kids and sometimes the Sanctuary workers. They’ve all heard of Dimension X of course, but those who don’t straight up agree with what Mevolent was doing either justify the thought by claiming that they’ve seen his mistakes and could do it better (introspection, anyone?) or, in the case of people like Valkyrie, just shake off the thought and tell themselves that it would never work out in practice.

And how sorcerers view mortals, even the supposedly good sorcerers, is also an important thing to consider here. There are, of course, sorcerers like Nefarian who have a cartoon villain view on mortals and think of them as little more than cattle, but there are more nuanced ways of thinking about mortals that are still not actually that great. In HBL, Ghastly talks about how he’s worse than mortals because he’s been given this gift that elevates him to some status above them, and yet also chooses to compete in wars for seemingly no end. And that’s the thing, this way that he subtly thinks of mortals as simple creatures who don’t understand the glory of the world as he does, who’s actions are understandable because how could they ever know better?

I also think that Valkyrie’s perception of mortals is fascinating because of how we get to see it evolves over time. When Val is fourteen or so, she actively rejects the term “mortal” because she sees it as dehumanizing and elevating of the sorcerers to a higher status. But as she grows older and becomes more attached to sorcerer society as opposed to mortal society, she stops complaining about the term and begins to adopt that mindset that so many other sorcerers have of almost being a shepherd. Instead of protecting mortals for the sake of keeping other people safe, it sometimes feels more like a duty to keeping the livestock alive more than anything else, and she actively refers to mortals as bumbling fools who get themselves killed unnecessarily in HBL.

Now, this is where Roarhaven as a city actually starts to come into play. After all, it lends sorcerers an entire city away from the prying eyes of mortals, and there’s nothing that actually makes them go back to interact with them. They can just live in the city forever and have all the resources they need. But spending so long away from and never interacting with the mortals they’re supposed to protect leads to disconnection with them from the sorcerers. The sorcerers see their city as cleaner, nicer, more organized, and overall better than anything the mortals could possibly create. Sorcerers live longer lives, are more open-minded, are stronger and capable of doing more, and so they must be better than those foolish mortals who become more close-minded as they get older.

And of course the Sanctuary is supposed to disagree with this sentiment (emphasis on supposed), but it doesn’t really matter because the Faceless Ones worshipers who have been saying this for hundreds of years and haven’t been stamped out by the government get to spread this idea around to their fellow citizens, who refuse to go back and actually reconnect with the mortals. It’s like how fast transphobia spreads among those who don’t actually know any trans people; the lack of ability to disprove the information and ideas you are being given causes them to become real to you.

And now for the children, who have less life experience and even less memories of mortals than the adults do. The students are easy to leave imprints on, and we’ve already seen how even the best intentioned kids express some anti-mortal sentiments. They know that their world is dying and it’s the mortals faults. They’ve grown up in this world being told over and over that they are better and wiser than mortals, and have been taught by their parents and by each other to view mortals as mayflies. Nothing more than insects. Even people like Omen wondered if maybe things would be better if they simply took over. Quietly took the world off the mortal government’s hands and into their own, where their everlasting wisdom can lead them to a better future. Because the kids don’t remember what the war was like, and it leads them to be disconnected from their parents. And that leads them to find affirmation among each other instead, at a boarding school where they almost never see their families and where even the teachers will indulge in anti-mortal sentiments. It’s such an easy rabbit hole for them to fall into, especially since Roarhaven hasn’t developed any sort of system to keep the kids up to date with the world and politics outside of Roarhaven, and so they just learn from each other.

And the reason that Roarhaven’s government isn’t able to do much about the children turning towards fascism is because the government kind of sucks. They have this idea that they don’t need things like lawyers because they have mind-readers and lawyers are a measly mortal invention while failing to consider the fact that lawyers exist to make sure that rights are being followed. Except that I’m not actually sure that the sorcerers have anything like rights outside of loosely following what mortals have, since police brutality seems incredibly common and the cops seem allowed to just do whatever they please. They also have nothing like a democratic system and their top governors can be easily put under influence by someone with money (e.g. China and Damocles).

There’s definitely more I could say to point this out, but I think it’s already clear enough (hell, it’s even discussed in the series itself) that the Sanctuary’s current government system is corrupt, outdated, and leaves room for dictators and fascists to take over and for the people to continue harming each other with no end in sight and needs to be replaced with something that would allow sorcerers as a whole to grow from the trauma that has brought them ruin for hundreds of years and maybe even finally help to create a better world for everyone.

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFW part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she has done so many times before. (Y/n)’s antics just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that, the details of swirling clouds so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words just begging him to chase her around the small space, again. ���Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” (Y/n) held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as (Y/n) got closer to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. (Y/n) even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as (Y/n) tried to get the situation out, and understood, as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice becoming clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, (Y/n)’s master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize it was hard to tell, he could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter one's Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, (Y/n)’s shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now though? (Y/n) was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as (Y/n) huffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates (Y/n) bent down so she could properly look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots making a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything it's just a sign you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever (Y/n) was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat I should know what I'm going into, and master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so over confident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure (Y/n) could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The one's I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” (Y/n) clapped her hands together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us, Yuan.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when (Y/n) glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall, I jumped.”

“Are you sure about that, prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind (Y/n)’s ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for���well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke (Y/n) lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if (Y/n) had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, as (Y/n) whined at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade, of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his as (Y/n) told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out to leave a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

(Y/n) didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled (Y/n) into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. (Y/n) his lake he would willingly jump in even if it drowned him.

“Pr-prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Sure. She's so snarky even like this.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at again covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was (Y/n) who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Old nails clearly being the only things keeping the boxes together as he watched the cloud knights assigned to this mission just like she was.

Blue armor much like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, (Y/n) was. A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms despite the fact he wasn't going to be besides them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients (Y/n) never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. Miss (Y/n) of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew (Y/n) best was when she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

(Y/n) can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men that were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

Somehow the sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a Disney princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, general,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the amount of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it fades away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teasing over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

‘I love you.’

‘I'll be back in two years.’

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

‘Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we can try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.’

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

‘Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night to me was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years time when you are at the age I am now you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat, was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite you jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.

Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform. Green never was my color.

I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-’

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters so they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

‘I am sorry I grew up without you.’

[missdawnandherdusk]

The Case

Summary: it was your last class you had to get credit for before you were able to become a wizarding world public defender. Six years after you left Hogwarts. Now all that stood between you and your future was one professor and an open case you were tasked with closing.

A/N: *emerges from the void* who's ready for another Draco series? I don't know how long this will be and there's barely a plan but I'm too excited to not write this and share it with you guys. I've missed yall. How are you?

Dr. Dresden was one of the hardest professors standing between me and my new career as a public defender. I had heard rumors about the students that had dropped the entire career path after one meeting with him. Fatefully avoiding him until now there was nothing that I could do. He was the last credited course I needed: the professor who gave out real unsettled cases for us to work through. All of the names were changed for anonymity but we were still expected to close the case. 

Walking to the ornately carved door I took a deep breath and knocked. 

“Come in,” I heard his gravelly voice. 

I opened the door, a polite smile on my face. Dr. Dresden could have been sixty eight or three hundred and four and there would be no telling. His wispy white hair was coiffed carefully and his ancient blue eyes hid behind thick bifocals. His face was permanently pinched in a pensive expression, as if the years of untangling court cases altered the way he had aged. His tweed suit was immaculately clean and like the rest of his office was probably never changing. 

“Miss Y/l/n,” He greeted. 

“Professor,” 

“Come, sit.” He chose his words so carefully, as if the world wasn’t worth the extra effort to form complete sentences. 

I sat without saying a word. What did you say to someone like him? He knew he held my future in his hands and all I had to do was survive. It was one court case. I had done thousands up until now. 

We were at an impasse. 

Still saying nothing, he pulled out a thick envelope out of one of his desk drawers and set it on his desk in front of me. 

“Four o’clock Tuesday.” He said. “I expect to see progress.” 

“Yes sir,” I took the envelope in my hands. 

“That’s all.” 

Nodding I stood, inhaling deeply. The weight of the bulky folder in my hands held the weight of my future and somehow I thought it would be heavier. 

“And Miss Y/l/n?” He called before I left his office, my hand on the doorknob. 

I turned. 

“Don’t be so nervous. I’m very interested to see what becomes of you,” There was almost a smile on his face and I didn’t know whether to take his words as a compliment or a looming threat. 

“Yes Professor,” I nodded a goodbye and left his office. 

Drawing my wand I apperated back home, walking up the steps of my building, unlocking it, feeling the safety behind the closed door. 

My apartment in Epsom was just far enough away from the city that I didn’t feel suffocated. It was quiet, quaint, with locals who knew me from working my way through law school at a local restaurant. A wizard community had been here since the 1200s and they never really left. Of course they were all skeptical when I moved in at the end of my undergrad, but now it was like I had lived here all my life. 

Setting the folder on my four seater little dining table, I switched a couple of lights on. 

Tuesday was my first deadline. It was in two days. What had he expected me to accomplish in two days? I could have the case memorized and thousands of books filled with ancient wizard laws that applied but without names or locations, I couldn’t make progress. 

A sigh left my lips. 

I was getting ahead of myself. 

The folder taunted me on the table as I made dinner and poured a drink. It was time to get to work. 

Pulling out fresh parchment, quill and ink, I opened the folder. 

It was a War case. They were common. Those who may or may not have been associated with Voldemort and his followers; all looking to be acquitted. I scanned the cover page. The wizard or witch’s name was changed to a number. 

They were the child of a death eater and had taken the mark themselves during this war. They were charged with the murder of a very important wizard: whose name I also didn’t have. The wizard confessed to the crime, but the case was still open despite the confession. 

That was odd. 

My dinner was forgotten as I ruffled through the pages trying to figure out why this case was still open despite having the confession on record. Then there were the ballistics from the Aurors of the wizard’s wand. A killing curse was never cast. 

“Oh,” I sat back. “Okay,” This was interesting. Really interesting. 

How could a wizard under veritaserum confess to a crime his wand didn’t commit? 

The wizard killed was killed by the Unforgivable curse. 

I started reading through the witness statements versus the wizard’s own personal statements. The wizard claimed that everyone there who had witnessed the crime had died in the war. The witness statements I did have were character testaments—all claiming they believed the wizard was possible of such an act. 

At the very bottom of the folder was one last witness statement. 

Words I would never forget. 

Words that I gave an Auror six years ago. 

I knew this case. 

I knew this wizard. 

And after a few minutes, I had every witness named.

This was the case of Draco Malfoy.

.

the defendant

.

@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz@crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco  @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms   @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston    

@jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog  @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel  @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora

[ggoojjoo]

21:44

– pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

– contains: angst with a little comfort, timeskip!oikawa, mentions of kissing

– wc: 1,0k

– note: had the sudden urge to write haikyuu angst lol also a bit of a warm-up

Your steps were light as you walked through the neighborhood that had once brought you two together– the same that also separated you both years ago. Tooru was happily looking around the street he once called home, his ice cream almost done as it dripped into the makeshift bowl he had folded with the plastic. 

It had been a few weeks since he’d been back in Japan when he found you at one of his favorite restaurants, but before he was able to talk to you, people swarmed around him asking for pictures and signatures. To his luck, he saw you again, though in the old, worn-down convenience store he so often visited in his highschool years. He never thought of himself as a nervous guy until he was about to talk to you. After so many years. 

“Remember how we used to take apples from that old guy’s tree over there,” he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder with a grin as he expectantly looked at you. “Always had to run away from him.” His eyes shone in the dim lightning of the streetlamp as he giggled softly. 

He changed, not personality wise, but optically. His features held a type of experience that had to be earned, the hardships he went through to be where he is now. He looked… different, not the young and vibrant Tooru you knew, you loved. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, taking a bite out of your sweet treat. A heavy exhale left your tight lungs, a sudden coldness washing over you. “He,” you hesitated, “he isn’t here anymore.” Tooru looked at you with a horrified expression, his eyes almost popping out of their sockets. Immediately you lifted your hands, frantically shaking your head. “No, not like that.” A shadow of a smile passed your lips as you heard him sigh in relief. “He’s still very much alive, but not here. His daughter got him into a nursing home. She said that he’s too weak to look after himself alone,” you explained, shooting a glance towards the fading house. 

Tooru nodded silently, staring straight ahead as he realized it. “How long?”

“It’s been almost a year.” A year. Three-hundred-sixty-five days. He’s been gone for three, a little over one thousand days. He hummed, nodding softly. “I’ve been visiting him here and there,” you chuckled softly. “Still eats those apples like they’re his last.”

“(Y/N),” he whispered, stopping as you walked a few steps forward before turning to him. “I’m… It’s been so long,” he mumbled. Your smile faded slightly, nodding at his words. “It feels like it was yesterday,” you heard a soft quiver in his words. 

“I know,” you assured him. “Time passes, and that’s fine.” It’s not fine, it never was. “You had a dream. You reached it and that’s what matters.” It was so easy for you to assume that there isn’t something more to Tooru’s dreams. “I’m happy for you.”

He shook his head, a somber look in his eyes. He didn’t see you as you, he saw you as the girl that barely finished puberty he had left behind to selfishly pursue his dreams. And for what, to play with a damn ball? “I left everyone behind,” he muttered, the rest of the ice cream dropping onto the ground with a wet splat, leaving only the stick between his fingers. “I left you behind.” He desperately wanted to hug you, like the old times, like he used to when he saw you after classes. It felt like he was back in time again.

Giggles filled the small equipment closet as you two fooled around. “Tooru, someone will walk in,” you whispered through happy giggles as his lithe fingers tickled your soft skin under your shirt. Your back was pressed against the wall opposite to the door with Tooru’s back turned to it. His jersey was still sticky from the sweat he shed from the intense training he went through. “And you’re disgusting,” you whined, earning a little giggle from the boy as he kissed his jaw and cheek. 

You were the one waiting for him by the side lines to finish training. Often playing around with his teammates or teaching you how to serve the ball. 

“Follow the ball with your eyes and your feet will do the rest on their own,” he muttered in your ear as he crowded you between his arms. Big hands covered yours as you held the ball, cool to the touch. “You toss it up,” he pushed your arms up. “And now you follow the ball.” 

He was so happy for you as you perfectly hit the bottle on the other side of the net, kissing you like it will be the last time. 

Soon, it was the last time.

“What,” you whispered, the wind picking up and drowning out any noise. Except his voice. Nothing could drown out his voice. “You’re leaving?” Tooru wouldn’t look at you, his hands  tight by his sides as they trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to get upset.”

“So, you thought hiding this from me was better than just telling me? Tooru, look at me,” you demanded. “Look at me, please.” He wished he didn’t. Anything was better than seeing what he was seeing now. Tears were forming in the very eyes that he fell in love with, the same eyes that looked at him with so much adoration every time he scored a point, the same eyes that glared at him when he did something annoying.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you muttered softly, shaking your head. “I’m happy for you, Tooru. That won’t change any time, not now, not ever.” How could you still be so forgiving after what he put you through. 

“But I promised,” he whispered.

“I know,” you nodded. “You’re fine.” 

A long moment of silence hovered between you two before Tooru decided to break it. “I’m here for another week,” he said, tilting his head. “Would you like to spend it with me?” His heart was in his throat as he watched your expression change. 

“I don’t see why not.” Your answer made him sigh in relief, laughing softly as he reached out to wrap his arms around you.

His low hum rumbled through his chest as he tightened his arms around you. “I missed you.”

@ggoojjoo | ©️ do not steal or plagiarize

i do not own the haikyuu!! franchise nor the characters!

[ougougougoug]

😅👉🏽

this is a haiku that uses just two symbols.

so, let me explain:

(while editing this post i found out that a few emojis i use are not supported on certain browsers. clearly im being silenced.

if you paste them in discord, then they should display, otherwise, suffer?)

haikus are simple, but have a rigid structure, which is why they’re fun. just five syllables, then seven, then five again, arranged in three lines.

what I think is fun is what I like to call a ‘minimal haiku,' which is where you try to use as few symbols as possible to write all three lines of a haiku. so, for example, we start with numbers.

7 is so cool everybody likes 7 7 is funky

in this haiku here, although '7' is only one symbol, it counts as two syllables, because that's how it's pronounced. so, obviously, we can just kind of run with that, right?

so here is the smallest haiku i think you can make using numbers in this way.

here is the haiku:

77 707 77

"seventy seven seven hundred and seven seventy seven"

this haiku uses (fittingly) seven symbols, but it kind of sucks. we're playing fast and loose with what we're calling a haiku, but it would still be nice if the minimal haikus we wrote kind of, at least, sort of made sense, i think.

so here's the smallest haiku i have written so far using only numbers and letters.

alright, here is the haiku:

33 x 3 funny 700x 69 ha ha

"thirty three times three funny seven hundred times sixty nine ha ha"

its not exactly high art, but it's technically comprehensible as a series of words that express a full thought, and that's good enough.

obviously, you can go further than this, and the next logical step is ascii. I don't think there's any ascii symbols that can be pronounced as seven syllables, but there are a few that can do five.

so here's the smallest haiku i could make using just ascii symbols:

) :) !

"close parentheses colon, close parentheses exclamation mark"

wow! just four symbols, which tell the relatable story of a guy who wakes up and sees that he's slept through his alarm. (it conveys this thought pictorially, but it does convey a thought.)

of course, we can go further.

our next stop is emojis.

now, one thing that's problematic about these is that not everyone might agree on how they should be pronounced, but i say we just play with this, and use whatever makes our haikus work, because, well, it's more fun that way.

so, here's a fun haiku:

🌑 🌓 🌕

"new moon emoji first quarter moon emoji full moon emoji"

wow! just three symbols.

here's a haiku about a working class trans girl:

🧑‍🏭 👩‍🏭 ⚧️

"factory worker woman factory worker transgender symbol"

so, we've managed to make some haikus with just three symbols. but i think we can go smaller.

ive been limiting myself to writing haikus with three visible lines when written down, but you can't do that with just two symbols. so we're just gonna forget about that from this point on.

(as a quick little aside, i said before that, using just numbers,

77 707 77

was the best i could do, but if you ignore how it is written down,

77777

"seventy seven thousand seven hundred and seventy seven"

is a haiku in just one number. anyways, back to emojis)

😵‍💫 🤢

this is a haiku. let me explain to you why.

most emojis are single unicode characters. but some of them are secretly just combinations of two other emojis with a symbol called a 'zero width joiner' between them, which means, although they're displayed as just one symbol, you can break them up into three. here's the wiki page for 'face with spiral eyes', which lists the three unicode symbols that make up the emoji. with that knowledge, you can pronounce this fun haiku as:

"face with crossed out eyes zero width joiner, dizzy nauseated face"

which is a haiku about a person who's sick and might just frow up.

one common type of emoji sequence is for modifying the skin tone of certain emojis. for these, we won't think about what the zero width joiner is doing (in fact, i think some, but not all, of these don't even have one? it's unclear to me, but all the more reason to ignore them.) what we'll do instead is just use the 'CLDR Short Name', which you can find listed here and here on unicode.org. These are about as official as you can get with emoji names, and will cover the emojis i'll be using for the last haikus.

so let's look back at the haiku at the top of this post, shown again:

😅👉🏽

"grinning face with sweat backhand index pointing right medium skin tone"

this takes advantage of the skin colour of the pointing emoji.

so that's another haiku that uses just two symbols, which depicts an anxious person doing finger guns (perhaps they're anxious because they spilled some yellow paint on their face. who knows. like any great artist, my works are up to interpretation.) so this leaves us all asking...

is it possible?

we've done two symbol haikus, but what about...

one?

any emoji which shows a person can be modified both by skin colour and by gender. if there is more than one person in an emoji, then each person can be given their own modifiers.

This means it's just a matter of going through the list of emojis and hoping that you can find one that works.

and, well that's just what i did:

👨🏾‍❤️‍👨🏽

couple with heart: man, man, medium-dark skin tone, medium skin tone

this is the smallest haiku possible to write. it's just a single symbol.

and it's two gay men. a wonderful queer couple. and i think that's great.

[honeysuckleharringtons]

Part Three: "Spilled Milk" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: (Then) Morning sickness has finally caught up to Reader, and unfortunately it has her spilling her guts in more than one way. — (Now) When Steve brings his roommate along with him to the coffee shop, the situation soon goes south when his friend starts to spill Steve's not-so-secret crush to a certain barista.

Pairing: Nurse!Steve Harrington x Fem!Byers!Reader

Word Count: 2,561

Content Warning: teen pregnancy, vomit/morning sickness talk, mentions of food, very mild swearing, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: this chapter took so freaking long to write because work is taking it out of me lol but i hope you guys enjoy!!

Originally Written: 11/05/2023 through 11/27/2023

honeysuckleharringtons' masterlist can be found here!

'brew and me' series masterlist can be found here!

[ Then, July of 1987 ]

One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Over ten thousand minutes. That was the amount of time that had passed since that little white stick had turned blue and changed your life forever.

One might've thought you would've been used to the information by that point, that excitement or anticipation or any kind of emotion at all would've at least crossed your mind once or twice. Instead, you still felt numb, guilt and self-loathing dripping through your veins as naturally as your own blood.

To make matters worse, morning sickness had finally caught up to you. When you weren't throwing up from shame and fear, you were retching due to the human life inside you that clearly wasn't happy with its environment. You were living on a steady diet of toast and Joyce's ginger tea, and you were quite positive your brothers had started to catch on.

The older of your brothers, Jonathan, had been home for summer break from college for barely two weeks when you found out about your current condition. The two of you had been inseparable since the day you were born, having been raised more like twins than individuals who were born a year apart. And since the day you started to speak in full sentences, the two of you told each other everything. But the idea of him finding out about this? To say it terrified you more than actually having the baby was an understatement.

On the opposite hand, you had your younger brother, Will. The baby of the family—for the time being, anyway. The innocent one, the one who you trusted with anything because he didn't really have anyone to tell his secrets to. You craved so desperately to confide in someone, and he happened to be the person you always went to. But telling him this would be like taking the last of his innocence, like forcing him to cross the line between childhood and adulthood with you.

That thought was nearly too much to bear, and because of it, you found yourself doubled over the toilet, nausea and guilt and anguish rushing through you from head to toe. You retched and gagged as vomit exited you once again, tears pricking at your eyes from the pain.

Joyce truly had tried her best to help you as much as possible, bringing you anything you needed and helping you back into bed. But being a single mom also meant taking care of her kids in other ways, and this particular day, it meant leaving you at home with the two people you dreaded speaking to the most at that moment.

A soft knock rapped against the door, and you knew just from the fact that he'd actually used his manners that it was Jonathan. "Are you okay? You looked pretty sick when you ran in here."

A small smile tugged at your lips at his concern, the first time you'd felt any positive feelings since you found out your news. "It's open, Jon," you called, pushing yourself up from where you lay flat on the tiles.

He pushed the door open slightly, just enough to enter the room before cracking it behind himself. Worry knitted in his thick eyebrows as he moved to sit criss-cross on the floor across from you. "This must be one hell of a stomach bug."

A sarcastic chuckle made its way out of your lips weakly. "Pretty bad," you said, unsure if you had the strength to muster any more words together. You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging your legs like your life depended on it. Your eyes went anywhere but toward his, knowing with just one look, Jonathan could convince you to spill even your darkest secret. Which, in all fairness, this might've been it.

"Hey," he started, a gentle hand coming up to meet your knee, "I know when something's wrong with you."

"Jon, it's-"

You didn't have to look up to know he was giving you that serious and stern look, the one that always reminded you that he was nothing short of your big brother. "Don't give me the stomach bug thing again. Maybe you can fool Mom with that crap and maybe even Will, but you're not fooling me. I'm your older brother, but more than that, we're best friends. I know when something is truly wrong with you, but I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is."

Instead of forming words, you simply shuffled across the floor and over to him, Jonathan instinctively opening his arms up to pull you into his side. Just as you expected, even the simplest of touches had you on the brink of tears as you leaned into his embrace. His crisp and clean scent filled you with a sense of familiarity. A feeling that was so comforting, so needed, and just so Jonathan.

Pregnancy must've taken away your knowledge of how time worked because once again, being in a familiar embrace had made you lose track of time. You really weren't sure if you'd been on the floor with him for five minutes or five hours before a certain someone alerted you of his presence from the doorway.

"Uh," Will started, clearly confused by the scene in front of him. "Why are you two hugging on the bathroom floor?"

Identical snickers tumbled out of both you and Jonathan, yours being slightly muffled by tears. You pushed yourself up before motioning the younger boy over with a wave of your hand. "Come here, Will," you said, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Despite the way he was looking at the two of you like you'd both grown an extra head, Will followed your request. He sat down criss-cross on the side closest to the door, and you were sure it was because he was secretly plotting an escape from his two crazy older siblings.

You tossed an arm around both their sets of shoulders, looking between the two of them with teary eyes. "Before I tell you guys the biggest secret you've ever heard, you have to promise me two things: one, it will not leave this house; and two, you'll still love me afterward."

Jonathan rubbed at your hair playfully. "Kinda hard to promise that second one when I never loved you to begin with, stinker." The statement earned him a teasing shove from you and a false expression of shock from Will.

Looking between the two of them, you felt your heart swell with luckiness. No person had ever been blessed with two better siblings than your own, you were sure of it. The older, a living, breathing personification of comfort, and the younger, a steady thing to hold onto when life felt wobbly. You wished it could stay that way forever, the three of you in your own private and protected bubble.

Unfortunately, the moment had to come to an end and your bubble had to burst. When you remembered the statement you were about to make, it felt to you almost as though the moment had been a passing second rather than the first eighteen years of your life.

That familiar numbness began to return, flooding to your fingers and toes first, and then starting to creep up your spine. You managed a shaky breath, avoiding both their gazes as you exhaled. "I want to preface this by saying that my boyfriend and I love each other very much, so you guys don't have to worry about him." The words came out choppy, anxiety clearly coating your throat.

You could almost hear Jonathan's eyebrows furrowing as he asked, "What's he got to do with…" His voice trailed, as if already figuring out exactly what you were about to say.

Another shaky breath escaped your lips as you lifted your head. You still avoided eye contact, this time fearful they'd see the panic-induced tears welling beneath your eyes. "I…" you started, knowing that once you said the words, there'd be no going back, "I'm pregnant."

Jonathan took the news exactly how you'd expected: leaning back against the counter, running a hand through his messy brown hair, and his complexion going from its normal pale shade to stark white. Will took the information much better than your older brother: not saying anything but pulling you in for a soft hug.

While the two of them processed the statement you'd made, a new feeling washed over you, like you were finally beginning to process the news yourself. Your nerves began to settle, and the nervous tingling in your fingertips was being overtaken by… relief? Excitement? Contentment?

[ Now, November of 1991 ]

Whatever the word was, you liked it much more than the horrible, guilty, suppressing thoughts that had been weighing you down for the past week. You'd be okay, no matter what happened. Because you had the best support system, one that made your heart swell with luckiness.

The bell chimed as the door swung open, pulling your attention away from the book you'd been reading in between taking customers. Normally, your attention would be on cleaning the equipment between orders or making sure tables were cleared off, but finals were only a couple weeks away, and that had stolen your attention this particular day.

"Hi, welcome to Brew and Me." The statement came out in its normal cheery tone, one that quickly gave way to an opposing expression as your eyes met familiar, wire-framed ones.

Steve stepped up to the counter as an unfamiliar curly-haired man followed behind him, digging in every single pocket of his leather jacket to find his wallet. In juxtaposition to Steve's neutral scrubs, the man wore a bright flannel beneath his jacket, and instead of having glasses perched on his nose, he sported sunglasses atop his head that were nearly hidden by his mop of dark curls.

You quickly turned your attention back to Steve, intrigued by whatever his order might be this time. "What's your guess this time, Lennon?" you asked, the words dripping sarcasm as your arms folded tightly in front of your chest.

Not taking the bait, Steve quickly changed the conversation. "Whatcha reading?" he asked, the words melting together in a way that made your stomach melt just the same.

Still, you wouldn't take the bait either, not backing down from your usual banter. "Mouth Hygiene by Alfred Fones."

"Sexy," he chuckled, earning a small snicker from the man behind him. Steve pushed his glasses up his nose, a cocky smirk appearing on his lips before he spoke again. "To answer your question though, I was wondering if I could just get today's special?"

"Something about me says, 'iced cold brew with cinnamon cold foam'? Good to know."

Steve leaned forward on the counter, and you had to resist the urge to watch his scrubs tighten around his muscled arms. "Well, it's like your personality. A little sweet at first, but then bold and bitter."

You started to reply but got cut off by another snicker from the leather-clad man standing behind your handsome nurse. "So this is the barista you're always talking about."

Before Steve could quip out a response, you met the two men with raised brows. Curiosity bubbled inside you. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Eddie, I swear to God, if it wouldn't get me kicked out of med school, I'd murder you," Steve grumbled.

The curly-haired man just smirked, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips. "You wouldn't dare. You love Chrissy and Wayne too much to ever hurt them like that."

"I could overlook it this one time, trust me," he quipped to Eddie. To you, he simply asked, "So, how's about that daily special?"

You quickly scribbled down his order before taking his money in contemplative silence. You knew Steve had a crush on you—that much was obvious, between his flirtatious remarks and endless efforts to get your phone number, not to mention his very generous tips—but the idea of him telling his friends all about you had butterflies shooting off in your belly like fireworks.

Steve soon headed in the direction of his favorite table, leaving Eddie to step up to the counter. His eyes narrowed in on the menu hanging above you, his tongue clicking as he contemplated his decision. Eventually, he landed on a white chocolate mocha, and your stomach growled at the thought.

"By the way," he said, sliding his money toward you, "he really does talk about you all the time, even if he's too shy to admit it."

Your cheeks flushed as you looked away, conveniently focusing on the cash register than on him. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah," he smiled. "Steve could go on and on for hours about your beautiful hair or gorgeous smile or whatever part of you he's thinking about that day. Just the other day, he wouldn't stop talking about your eyes. Not to mention, he's constantly raving about how no one could ever make drinks the way you do, hence why I'm here today."

Forget fireworks. With every word that passed through Eddie's lips, explosions of butterflies danced and spun around in your belly, tingles shooting up your spine.

After a few seconds, you finally gained enough composure to speak again. "Well, the feeling is definitely mutual," you admitted, your cheeks hot enough to steam milk.

"Good," Eddie said, the word quiet and simple and straight to the point. "He's a good guy. He's… a terrible roommate," a small laugh followed the remark, "but he really is a good guy."

The tingles on your spine somehow increased tenfold as you listened to Eddie's statements. You knew Steve was good, but hearing the people that knew him outside the coffee shop talk so highly of him made you swoon.

You didn't say anything in response, you were too busy trying to hide the blush burning across your entire face. You quickly got to work on their drinks, looking for any reason to avoid eye contact with the men. While it probably wasn't possible, you'd convinced yourself that one micro expression gone wrong could reveal every thought racing through your mind, and decided it was best to avoid the two until you collected yourself and your thoughts.

Still, your heart couldn't help but flutter at Eddie's words about the lovestruck nurse. Were it not for Mandy—and your trust issues—you might hop over the counter and give Steve your home phone number on the spot. After all, with every new day that passed and every new attempt at guessing your coffee order, you only found yourself falling for him that much more.

But you had a little girl at home, in need of protection. After all the sorry examples of men she'd had thus far in her mere three years on earth, it would take Steve a lot more than a couple of big tips and flirty banter for you to trust him.

So, you made quick work of changing the channel in your brain, no longer focusing on the one playing only lovesick lullabies and switching instead to one with barista ballads and zeroing your thoughts in on your work. If Steve really and truly wanted a shot with you, he'd have to work hard, no matter how sweet the things his friend had spilled about him were.

This is my formal apology stating that I am so sorry this was posted so late in the day! I had planned on queuing it for earlier in the day but didn't get home from work last night until super late. Anyway, I apologize and hope that next week's chapter will be posted on time!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @liberhoe @princesseddie @corrodedseraphine @manuosorioh @esoltis280

[spideyyboiirecs]

Bucky Barnes Reblogs

A masterlist of my fav Bucky Barnes Fics 

SERIES

A Maidens Tale 18+ @world-of-aus

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Dolores, Mob!Bucky x Maid!Reader 

The Truth Will Set You Free @angstysebfan

pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader

Bad Decisions 18+ @syntheticavenger

pairing: Mob Boss Bucky Barnes x Right Hand Female Reader

Monster In Law 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Chubby Bee 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Plus-size!Reader 

The Annoying Guy @holylulusworld

pairing: OFC x fem!Reader, Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Every Other Day 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Teacher!Reader

Mr Grumpy and His Ex-mate @holylulusworld

pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader 

Rebound 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader 

Unwilling Bride @holylulusworld​

pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barney’s x fem!Reader 

Howlin’ For You @invisibleanonymousmonsters

pairing: Biker!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Her soft animal 18+ @kinanabinks

paring: Dark Bucky x Reader

The Penthouse 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Multiple Characters x Reader

Two Thousand, Five Hundred and sixty nine 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: frat!bucky x best friend!reader

Relax 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Nerd!Frat!Bucky x Reader

Best Friend 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best Friend!Reader

ONESHOTS

As In The Mother, So Is Her Daughter @suitk0via

pairing: Dad!Bucky x Reader

His Little Play Thing 18+ @bucky-barnes-diaries

pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x Stepdaughter!Reader

It All Belongs To You 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader 

Rescuing Alpine @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Bucky x Reader. Alpine 

Top Of His List @angrythingstarlight

pairing: Mafia Bucky x Reader 

Don’t Make Me Wait 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: 

Thin Ice 18+ @angrythingstarlight

pairing: 

Say The Word and It’s Yours 18+ @angrythingstarlight​

pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader 

Cruel 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

How You Love Me 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

Something Blue 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

Separation Anxiety 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: Semi-dark!fratbucky x best friend!reader

Clingy As Fuck 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader 

Constant 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best friend!Reader

His Girls 18+ @kinanabinks 

paring: Nat x Reader x Bucky 

The Sound Of Love 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Bucky x Partly Deaf!Avenger!Reader

Tug Of War 18+ @kinanabinks 

pairing: Mob!Bucky x Best Friend!Reader, Ex!Pietro x Reader 

The Only One @kinanabinks 

pairing: Ex!Bucky x Reader 

Obedient 18+ @holylulusworld

Pairing: Alpha!Mobster!Bucky x Omega!Reader 

Two Souls @holylulusworld

pairing: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader;Alpha!Winter Soldier x Omega!Reader

Stumble @holylulusworld​

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader 

I Have A Feeling This Was A Trap 18+ @scarletsoldat​

pairing: Beefy!dom!Bucky x Shy!sub!Reader x Roommate!dom!Wanda 

Mr Grumpy Man 18+ @idy-ll-ique​

pairing: Mob Boss!Bucky x F!Reader

STUCKY: 

BackStage Pass 18+ @luxeavenger​

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers x Female!Reader 

Their Surrogate 18+ @gotnofucks

pairings: Dark!Steve x Reader, Dark!Bucky x Reader

Theirs To Keep 18+ @holylulusworld

pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Reader x Mobster!Steve

Your Doll 18+ @kaiparker-avengerssmut

pairing: steve rogers x bucky barnes x f!stark!reader

Method Acting 18+ @kinanabinks

pairing: frat!steve x reader x frat!bucky

[braveclementine]

Epilogue

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Optional Read: Some parts of this are going to be sad and might spoil the happy ending I had before. This doesn't really offer any plot and you won't miss anything if you simply end reading at the last chapter.

Also, in case you're concerned about the number of kids: It's over a course of over one thousand and more years so don't worry, the kids are pretty well spread out. 

You've been warned

Trigger warnings: Death

Your kids names by the time you died:

~ Lucy Sarah Marvel- Bucky

~Vincent Jack Marvel- Fury

~Marcel Yomaya Marvel- T'Challa

~James Rupert Marvel- Rhodey

~Temperance Hope Marvel- Tony

~Lloyd Heimdell Marvel- Thor

~Vera Shuri Marvel- T'Challa

~Rán Elizabeth Lokidottir- Loki

~Kiara Donna- Stephen

~Zia Maria Marvel- Fury

~Elijah Kai Marvel- Tony

~Arlo James Marvel- Steve

~Jörd Odinson- Thor

~Janelle Ruth Marvel- Bucky

~Nya Isabel Marvel- Clint

~Laura Rue Marvel- Clint

~Frederick Remus Marvel- Sam

~George Sirius Marvel- Sam

~Angela Natasha Marvel- Clint

~Cole Edward Marvel- Stephen

~Freyja Lokidottir- Loki

~Sebastian Paul Marvel- Bucky

~Claude John Marvel- Steve

~Kisa Wanda Marvel- Sam

~Cebisa Gugu Marvel- T'Challa

~Clementine Y/N Marvel- Tony

~Wendell Nick Marvel- Fury

~Damon Skye Marvel- Bucky

~Edward Jarvis Marvel- Tony

Order of which you died:

1. Rhodey: A year and a half after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: You didn't have to help me clean up, but thank you hot mama.

2. Clint: Twenty-seven years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: Kind've ironic it's Cancer that's killing me, isn't it? Anyways, don't be sad birdie. I'll see you on the other side.

3. T'Challa: one hundred and forty-seven years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: I'm just going to go and show Cebisa the boundary lines. She's the newest little royal so she's got to know her own country. I'll see you when we get back, my Nkosazana.

4. Sam: Two hundred and sixty-three years after bonding ceremony Last thing he said to you: Don't worry, the mission will be a breeze. I'll be back in time for Kisa's birthday, you know I wouldn't miss that for the world babe. Just keep a hold of that good luck charm I gave you for Christmas. Oh, and don't forget to take care of my boys, alright?

5. Thor: One thousand, one hundred, and thirty-seven years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: Don't cry my princesse. I'll be waiting in Vahalla for you.

6. Fury: One thousand, one hundred, and fifty-eight years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: It was just my time babydoll. I'm not a stupid man. But with all this magic in the world, it can't be possible that we won't see each other again in the afterlife. Besides, now I get to see my sons again.

7. Loki: One thousand, nine hundred, and eight-four years after bonding ceremony. Last thing he said to you: Honestly my Queen? I think this is the first time I've beaten my brother in a competition. I can't wait to gloat in his face. Save those tears pet. You don't need to cry over me. I want the last thing I see of you to be your smile.

8. You: Two thousand, fifty-four years after bonding ceremony. Last words to Steve and Bucky: I love you both so much, I hope you both know that. I'll tell Sam you guys said hi, okay? Last words to Tony: You know, finding out the Avengers were my soulmates was the scariest thing in the world. But I wouldn't have changed a damn thing. I love you Tony. Last words to Stephen: Please don't cry Stephen. We got so much more time together than anyone else ever will. I only want you to remember the good times, okay?

9. Bucky: Two thousand, two hundred, twenty-four years after bonding ceremony Last words to Steve: Here's the end of the line pal. Don't blame yourself, I'll haunt you from the other side. I love you baby.

10. Steve: Two thousand, two hundred, tweyty-five years after bonding ceremony Last words to Stephen and Tony: I can't do it anymore. I can't live without them. Guess you're the last two left. I'm sorry

11. Tony: Two thousand, three hundred, and five years after bonding ceremony Last words to Stephen: I know you're sad, but don't be. I'm actually kind've excited to see all of them again. We're all going to be a huge, happy family once more. Just don't join me to soon. Do all the things you wanted to do first, okay? Promise me that.

12. Stephen: Two thousand, three hundred, and ten years after bonding ceremony There was no one to say his last words to: I'm coming home

When you all meet again

You woke up in a dazzling field of purple flowers. You sat up slowly, breathing in the fresh air. The field was completely empty and you got to your feet. Looking around carefully, you confirmed that you were alone.

Your feet seemed to move of their own accord, as though a magnetic pull was leading you across this field.

Your feet made almost no noise as you walked across this path, you and you noticed that you weren't wearing any shoes. Your feet felt the grass prickling and tickling underneath your feet.

At the edge of the field, the forest opened up to show a single house down in a valley.

It was huge, stretching from side to side, extending far back. It had a whole farm with animals and fruits trees and vegetable plants. The sun shone down brightly on the entirety. A stream of water cut through the back end of the forest, a smaller, though good sized cottage sat there.

Kids played all out on the front lawn, before looking up at you. They were all around the age of ten to fourteen.

"Moms home!" Vincent shouted. "Look, moms home!"

The kids ran up the slope towards you, while you ran down the slope towards them. You had missed them so badly. They had died so early as they hadn't been passed along the immortality gene- unless they were Thor and Loki's children.

"I knew I felt something." A long time hearing, but hugely familiar voice said.

Your eyes pricked with tears, spinning to see Rhodey there.

"James!" You said, tears streaming down your face, throwing yourself into his arms. He kissed the top of your head.

"Hey there sweet mama." He grinned.

"Y/N!" Thor laughed, sweeping through to pull you into a huge hug. Loki, T'Challa, Fury, Clint, and Sam followed behind quickly.

"Steve and Bucky love you." You murmured as Sam gave you the last hug.

"I miss them." Sam mumbled.

"They miss you too." you whispered, cupping his face, before kissing him.

"Hey, we have one last person." Clint said, pointing. "Well I mean, you know, one more group."

You grinned, running over and pulling Elizabeth into a hug. "Oh my God I missed you so much!"

"I missed you too." Elizabeth said with a watery smile. "Thank you so much for everything. For taking care of Minerva and protecting her. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome." You murmured. "Where is Minerva anyways?"

"She's with Hogun." Elizabeth said with a smile.

"Good. I'm glad that he's here with you." You said softly.

Elizabeth's smiled was sad now. "I did get scared, when he killed himself. And I was angry at first, wanting him to stay for her, but I was glad for the company. Rhodey didn't show up until a little later."

"Is this. . . Heaven?" You asked.

Elizabeth paused and looked around. "Hmm, I don't really know. From what we've explored, it just seems like another world except. . . it's. . . brighter. It's happier. Although you can't have kids in this world. If you could, Hogun and I would have a thousand."

You giggled. "I'm glad that we're all here."

"As one family." Elizabeth finished.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

***

You woke up, feeling a tingly feeling in your stomach.

You quickly made your way out of the house, watching as Bucky walked over to the edge of the cliff. You sprinted up it, leaping into his arms. He hugged you tightly before laying kisses all over your face.

"I missed you doll."

"I missed you too Teddy bear." You mumbled.

You noticed that his metal arm was gone, a real flesh arm in place of it. You didn't feel disappointment this time. Here, you were all in your pure forms.

"Bucky!" Sam's voice was ecstatic behind you. The two of them collided in a fierce hug, teeth and tongue clashing as they tried to get as close as possible to each other. You were almost certain that they would rip each others' clothes off each other right then and there.

Now, you were only waiting on three more.

***

You were already with Sam and Bucky when the tingly feeling happened again, a year or so later. The three of you had been walking along the forest line and you raced back to the house.

"It's Steve, I can just feel it." Bucky panted. "I can feel him."

When you reached the top of the hill, you found that Bucky was correct, but both you and Sam did a double take.

While Bucky barreled in Steve's arms, you and Sam looked at his new body. He was about the same height as Bucky, instead of a few inches taller. He wasn't as muscular in the shoulders, more lean and thin. He didn't look sickly or scrawny, but he wasn't the wall of muscles that you had known.

"I know." Steve said, sounding almost apologetic as Bucky finally let him up off the grass. "It's different, isn't it? I've almost forgotten what Bucky looks like with a metal arm."

You sobbed, leaping into his arms. "Stevie you're home!"

"Yeah cookie, I'm home."

"Stevie." Sam mumbled, hugging him tightly, crying as well.

"Aww baby." Steve cooed, wrapping the both of us tightly in his arms. "Don't cry, everything's okay."

***

When Tony came, he came like everything was normal. His hands were in his pockets and he simply strolled along, not even pausing at the crest of the hill before sauntering down the hill like he owned the place. The only difference was there was no glowing arc reactor in his chest.

"Well don't you look a day over two thousand." He grinned, winking at you.

You giggled. "What a flirt."

"Guess I've still got it." He said, pulling you into a hug. "Fuck I missed you."

"I missed you too." you mumbled into his chest. "How's Stephen?"

"He's okay. He's grieving. I told him not to follow to soon after me. I didn't want him to kill himself like Steve did." Tony whispered. "But I'm afraid he will."

"Well, being in love for two thousand plus years is probably equivalent to when couples die a few months apart when they've been married for fifty plus years." You amended, "You know, the normal couples."

Tony chuckled. "Yes, but I do feel bad for the pain he's going through. I hope this gets easier."

"Once Stephen joins us, we're complete." You whispered. "There's no death in this world. You know I actually got to meet George Washington?"

"That's fascinating. I should call up Albert Einstein and Newton." Tony said, growing excited.

You giggled, "Call them up hmm?"

"Can we invent in this world? Gosh this is fascinating. Hmm, I wonder if the other world was a world for the dead as well, we just don't remember our previous lives. Wow, I wonder. . ." He immediately went off on a tangent that you quickly got lost in.

But that made everything feel like normal.

***

You and Tony were the ones to greet Stephen as he came striding out of the field. His hands were uncovered, and you noticed all of his scars were gone. He too was changed.

Part of you hated the changes. You hated that Bucky no longer had a metal arm. You hated that Steve wasn't the same. You hated the missing glow from Tony's chest. You hated Stephen's missing scars.

But this was the place for change. This was the new yous and the old yous put together. This was your new home.

"Stephen." A smile spread across your face in seconds, wrapping your arms around him. "Welcome home."

"Welcome home." Tony said, kissing Stephen passionately on his lips. "Did you do what I asked you to?"

"I did." Stephen nodded, wrapping one arm around you, holding Tony's hand.

"Are you going to tell me about it?"

"Every minute." Stephen promised and the three of you walked up to the house. "First I went parasailing. . ."

No, it wasn't actually perfect.

But that was what made it home.

~The End~ For Real This Time

[idgivemyeyesfor-mattmurdock]

Hey in your last update you can Upload part Two ?

hope ur ok: pt2

GIF by kamillahn

TW: are you allergic to fluff? if so piss off

Pairing: Fem reader teacher x Matt Murdock

(tag requested) @chezagnes

“you weren’t joking about times tables, were you?” asked Matt as he heard you take out some papers from your briefcase. 

“Do I sound like a joking person?” 

Matt was used to women falling down at his feet, and begging him to be with them. Though, that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t do the same in due time, but thats just how you were. 

Hard to get. 

“No, but, my times tables?” asked Matt as he began to stand up from his bed, “out of all the things, you’d have me recite numbers?” 

He had to be sixteen, because there was no way someone could be so whiney. 

as you sat down on the chair beside his bed, you began to place the essays your students had written; on the top of your lap, you said, “you’re a lawyer, right?” 

“Thats the rumor on the street.” 

You signed as your hands went over the dots, “so, you know the constitution, history, aws that were passed years ago and cases that hardly matter to us now backwards and forwards, right?” 

“yes.” replied Matt a he swung his legs over the bed and placed his feet not he the floorboards, then facing your voice you said, “So, the one thing you probably could give two fucks about is math and science. Right?” 

“yes…” 

“And you’re a lawyer. and by the time I have spent talking to you, and by the way I’ve seen you maneuver yourself around court— you seem like the type of guy to think he knows everything.” 

“I do.” 

“whats seven times five hundred and twenty tree?” 

he paused. Thinking for a moment he replied cockily, “Two thousand, three hundred and sixty one.” 

“wrong.” you said with a laugh, “It’s three hundred, six hundred and sixty one.” 

In embarrassment in pointed his head away from your direction, though you continued laughing by replying “So, Matthew, you don’t know everything.” 

“you want to humble me.” 

“No,” you replied as your hands continued towards the page, “That’s what church is for… I just think you need to broaden your perspective on people.” 

“by doing my times tables and chemistry?” 

“Why not?” you asked as you’re hands stopped feeling the dots that were on the page, “you need to learn how to stretch you’re brain from just the circle that you live in.” 

“So you’re a therapist.” said Matt in a laugh as he relaxed he just got himself into some trouble with you. 

“No, I’m just a person who thinks you have more potential than what you see in yourself. God knows why He gave you a second chance, but he did. By seeing you and the way you treated you’re partners in the last case you three did— made me think that If I was ever in a situation that I had to deal with that— that I’d want that person to realize that they aren’t a little perfect creampuff that gets to walk on the face of the earth. And if it takes for me to teach you how to balance and equation or for me to sit down with you and practice seven times forty nine— then it will.” 

Matt looked away from the sunlight and set his peripherals back to you. 

His eyes, defocused yet so concentrated on your words. 

Concentrated on you. 

“So, when do we start, teach?”

-

Check out my Matt X Fem Frank Castles sister POC OC!!

[angeart]

ask game 12 &13!

yayy more questions! okay i'll start with 13 because it's simpler:

13.Any segment of your work that made you cry while writing it? (because it moved you deeply)

so. i cry easily. but i don't tend to cry while writing, i think? i don't have the greatest memory, so i can't be sure. i remember one time i cried while writing hmtb, but it wasn't because i was moved deeply jcnbjk (it was actually a mellow scene and i just. unexpectedly triggered an unpleasant memory, oops.)

in a way, i think it's easier to get emotional while working on RPs, actually. i might've cried at those in the past, mmh.

now, if you asked me when did i get anxious while writing. that's a whole another thing. i do deal with a lot of heavy emotions in writing, and, yeah. anyway, the answer is yesterday. (hmtb grian is doing perfectly well wdym-) (i had to stop writing after 8 sentences and take a break everything's fine-)

12.Funniest comment you've ever gotten in a piece of work?

this is a fun one! i don't think i have a favourite, i'm not the best with putting things on a scale and deciding that's the most this or that. add my bad memory into the mix, and about a year of writing a multichapter fic, and- well. but! i dug through and made a small collection of comments that amuse me! (there were many more, but i'm trying not to swarm you completely.)

i cannot tell you how much i appreciate and value the comments i get. i read every single one, and they matter a lot! they help me immensely and i am insanely grateful for them. <33

anyway, the collection of comments that make me giggle is under the line!

♥ please, consider this a love letter to all the commenters. ♥

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 3 of Elegy: ANGE UOU ARE THE SINGULAR SOURCE OF MY ANGST AND DEPRESSION (…) POOR GRIAN HE BETTER BE ALRIGHT OTHERWISE I WILL CHUCK A TENNIS BALL AT MY TOE

-

ghostpi on Chapter 7 of hmtb: TIS BUT A FLESH WOUND.

-

Eucalypta on Chapter 18 of hmtb: I forgot this had a ship tag so I was reading all previous chapters like: "what deep soulmates they are! Wait … Thats a bit gay. Well sometimes platonic love goes very dee- No thats definitely gay… What were the tags again?"

-

Tiand on Chapter 21 of hmtb: So- uh- Where can I send my therapy bill?

-

wimrow on Chapter 26 of hmtb: WOOOOO I DONT FEWL LIKE SOBBING WITJ THIS CHAPTER!!!!!! (this will absolutely change later on won’t it)

-

genderfluid_bitch on Chapter 29: *does a little jig* THE BABIES ARE HURTING AGAIN

-

Amabsis on Chapter 30 of hmtb: “Grian, are you okay?” NOBODY IS OKAY IMPULSESV!!!

-

Chat on Chapter 31 of hmtb: THATS A BRILLIANT WAY TO END A CHAPTER BUT OH MY FUCKERY ARE YOU CRUEL FOR IT.

-

peskytimes on Chapter 39 of hmtb: everytime i read this fic my mental state gets worse <33 /pos

-

Alcea_42 on Chapter 42 of hmtb: so sometimes 42 doesn't solve everything-

-

Holly_Loves_Reading on Chapter 46 of hmtb: Oh my god they’re so cute! Not even a little bit healthy, but so cute!

-

Pidgey05 on Chapter 47 of hmtb: Omg 200k words of pain and now finnally some fluff T^T it was so beautiful thank you author, for this gift 🤣

-

SongbirdQuela on Chapter 48 of hmtb: Everything’s going so well! Oh jee wiz I hope nothing goes incredibly wrong, boy would that be a rollercoaster, oh golly I can’t wait to see absolutely none of the characters doing anything self destructive!

-

Heartpaw on Chapter 48 of hmtb: “Did you two have a romp?” Says you. Your the one not wearing you own pants. Are you sure YOU didn’t have a romp

--

also have a kiss collection of you guys going insane <33

The_Pesky_Crow on Chapter 28 of hmtb: 12 Chapters from now, in a land far far away, the Grain kisses the Scar

-

Linkito on Chapter 41 of hmtb: I absolutely cannot believe that I binged this FORTY ONE chapter fic of A HUNDRED AND SIXTY THOUSAND WORDS and these idiots haven't kissed. Unbelievable. You're taking slow burn to a whole new level bless you and also I hate you LMAO

-

Bones_exe on Chapter 44 of hmtb: I'm going to be a crinkly old man by the time these two smooch huh?

-

Chocolate_Cake_Enthusiast on Chapter 44 of hmtb: JUST KISS ALREADY. PLEASE. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. PLEASE JUST KISS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-

Xanadu:Wynter on Chapter 45 of hmtb: PLEASE JUST ONE KISS

-

Bioluminescence on Chapter 45 of hmtb: I THOUGHT THEY WERE GOING TO KISS I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH AND THEN THEY DIDN'T this is honestly so predictable of you though smh

--

and some bonus screenshot stuff <3 (first two from elegy, the rest is hmtb)

(in the one below you can see a beautiful duality of comments /pos)

i hope that was fun. i had fun putting this together <3

love you guys!!

----- questions from >>this ask game<<

[lindsaystravelblogs5]

Day 56    Monday, 28 October   Ridding ourselves of the dreaded campervan

Firstly, a couple of miscellaneous observations – bits I wrote that may be repetitive of earlier postings, but maybe with some new stuff.

Phone boxes It was cute to see a few old telephone booths in the villages.  A few have emergency defibrillators in them, but a lot are tiny libraries, crammed with hundreds of books, many on makeshift shelving, and often with browsers inside or standing outside, selecting books to exchange - all local free libraries as I understand it.   A great idea.

Traffic enforcement My best guess of the average speed of all drivers in England is whatever the maximum speed limit is, plus 25 mph.  The only areas where drivers stay close to the speed limit is in stretches signposted for point-to-point speed averaging.  Obviously, they know that the electronic monitoring might catch them, but they have no fear of the traffic police - if there are any.   We have now driven over two thousand miles, almost three and a half thousand kilometres, and I have seen six cop cars.  One was a truck parked in a layby with no cops around, three have been in cars driving at ridiculous speeds, even for cops, with lights and sirens, on the other side of the Motorway, and two were modest little cars cruising very small villages.   I also saw two cops chatting with a farmer out in the middle of his paddock, but obviously, any traffic police are all on holiday. 

Other suicidal drivers A feature of urban parking is that cars park on both sides of the roads, facing whichever way they wish, and it is sometimes disconcerting when several cars on your left swing out across you to pass on your right.  But then, there are plenty of idiots on the road.  We often find drivers joining the Motorway from side streets, even major ones, less than twenty metres ahead of us when we are doing sixty miles an hour - somewhat insane.   We also had two cars today that flew past us and fled into the off-ramp ten or fifteen metres ahead.  One actually edged past in the lane we were in this afternoon: he just came up a couple of inches from my elbow and edged further left, forcing me to cut another car off, to get onto the hard shoulder.  I think there are a lot more idiots on the roads here - even worse than in Australia. 

Highway signage Signage is simply stupid here too.  There might be four huge signs one after the other, advising what the next exit takes you to.  Each sign advises different destinations at differing distances, or via other side roads, but with nothing at all that is definitive.  You read the sign, buy your lottery ticket and pray.  Sometimes you get it right.

On all the minor roads, the word SLOW is painted a zillion times in case a corner or a driveway or a village or an anything else might be in the next few kilometres ahead.  The only exceptions were in Wales where the signs all said ARAF SLOW - also quite needlessly.  A bit unfortunate in some cases, where the signs only say LOW because the lanes aren’t wide enough for even the trimmed down stencils.

Enough!

Finally, our last day with the dreaded campervan!!!

We were up early, possibly partly due to be the end of daylight savings, and we were all packed up and out of the caravan park before 9am.  A miracle but we did it.   We drove the last twenty miles into Cambridge with the intention of leaving our big bags at our hotel, but we couldn’t find anywhere to park.  We drove around a few blocks without success, so in despair, we decided to top up with fuel and return the camper and let the campervan guy find a park when he drove us back to the hotel.  (We had an agreement that he would do this, as well at driving us to the airport on Wednesday.)

Finding fuel was a minor challenge, as was finding where to return the van, but we got there after a couple of wrong turns.  Just as we arrived, another couple arrived to exchange their van for a smaller one, because the one they had rented was too big for many of the roads - surprise, surprise.   Interestingly, the model they were returning was the one to which we were supposed to have been upgraded, so maybe that one might have been very difficult too had it happened, albeit for different reasons.   This couple were from Adelaide and still had a couple of weeks to go, so we spent some time trading stories and telling them a bit about where we had been, and that is where they were now heading. 

We handed back the keys to my eternal relief and Harry drove us back to our hotel - and parked twenty metres from where we had given up looking for a place to park and backed out.  Just around a hidden corner was the Travelodge parking area - tiny but very welcome. 

We booked into the hotel and hid out in our small room for the rest of the day.   We had to pay ten pounds for an early check-in even though we had already paid ten pounds for a late check-out that we won’t need on Wednesday. 

We had a cup of soup in our room for lunch and spent an hour arranging all our gear into more or less final state for our trip home,

Summing up!

How would I summarise Phase 3 of our trip?

Scotland was only really a day and a half, but despite a few mild challenges, it was fine.   Wales was also fine.  Indeed, it was very enjoyable, much easier to navigate, had less traffic, and offered many more opportunities to enjoy its superb scenery.   

England - I hate it and sincerely hope I never see that shambles again.   We had planned to spend a week or two there at the end of our Singapore to London excursion next year, but have already decided to get out of this wretched country as quickly as we can.  Although I found most of the people quite nice, I can’t think of any other redeeming feature of this awful place.  The roads are medieval at best, our vehicle should have been retired a few decades ago, and we have seen very little.   The country seems designed to frustrate tourists, everything is ridiculously expensive, and the entire infrastructure is designed to make touring ineffective. Tourists pay a fortune to come here, and the country is designed to prevent them from seeing anything other than the inside of a hotel room, and what they can see by walking the nearby streets.  Driving is an expensive nightmare, with excessive fuel prices and access to exorbitantly gouging parking fees, all in controlled areas in even the remotest parts of the country.   It is quite impossible to stop within kilometres of any attraction if you are driving a mammoth van like ours with a height of over 2 metres and in most places, the absurdly uncontained hedges preclude a glimpse of anything outside the width of the road.  I hate the country and can’t understand why anyone would want to visit.   

[cheezits4lyfe]

Crescendo - Strings of Fate Ch. 3

AO3 || Table of Contents

WC: 1.9k

CHAPTER SUMMARY: (Spongebob French Narrator voice) "two-thousand two hundred and sixty words lay-taihr", Gale is finally brought into the fold! Leandra tries to flee the Quaffing Quaggoth.

TW: religious trauma || disordered eating/food guilt || body image issues

------------------------------

Chapter 3 - Crescendo

Most people know of “fight or flight”. 

What many don’t realise until it’s too late is that there is a third class within this concept. 

Fight, flight, or freeze. 

Much to her chagrin, Leandra is one of the unfortunate “many” who fall into the “freeze” camp when faced with a dangerous situation.

A fact she didn’t know about herself until just now. Hurrah for learning.

With the closed quarters and poor lighting, Leandra can’t make out any details of the person holding onto her biceps. They weren’t letting go, but they weren’t dragging her away, either. 

Though her body is unwilling to move, her mind and her mouth finally spring into action.

“Morgana sent you, didn’t she? Whatever she told you, it isn’t true.” Leandra tries to keep her voice measured and steady, but her pulse is racing as sweat trickles down the back of her neck. 

The grip on her biceps lessens, but the figure remains. “I’m afraid I don’t know of this ‘Morgana’... or, of any Morgana for that matter. Though, perhaps I should be grateful I’ve never made their acquaintance if your tone of voice is any indication of the kind of person they are.”

Leandra didn’t recognize this voice, nor the silhouette of whoever this was. It was as if a coy smirk could speak. Lower timbre, warm tone, friendly lilt. Could a voice sound handsome?

Eyes adjusting to the low light, she gets a better look at the figure in front of her. Though Leandra is tall for a woman at 5’ 10”, this mystery man looked to be about 6’ 3”. Broad shoulders, chiselled jaw blanketed by well-trimmed stubble, longer curly hair tied half-back, and tailored robes with tasteful embroidery. 

Whoever they are, there’s no way anyone this well-off would be associated with Morgana or her lackeys “Martyrs in Faith”. Leandra relaxes a bit, but is still on edge. 

“I beg pardon, sær; I mistook you for another in this godsawful lighting. If you’re wanting to hire me for an event or other some-such booking, the owner has my information.” Leandra starts to walk away, peeking past the meagre curtains which separate the “backstage” from the rest of the tavern. He follows behind her, eyebrows cocked in curiosity at Leandra’s tense mannerisms.

“Miss, I do apologise if I startled you. I hadn’t realised it was such closed quarters back here; nor that you were so close to leaving—”

Only half-listening, Leandra’s eyes widen and a shiver runs down her spine as she peeks around the corner into the tavern. She notices a shorter, apple-shaped woman with mousy brown hair cut in a uniform, short length around her narrow face and beady eyes. She wears nondescript grey robes, with a humble pouch tied around her waist. The woman’s thin lips are pursed into an even thinner line as she scrutinises Baklin behind the bar.

“I-I’m sorry, sær, but I’m afraid I really must take my leave—something’s come up.” The man follows her eye line, noticing the very out-of-place woman speaking with the owner… as well as how Leandra’s posture tenses up even more at the sight of the woman. He gently but firmly places a hand on Leandra’s shoulder as she tries to slip past the curtains.

“Wait—if you need to leave undetected, follow me.” Leandra isn’t one to trust strangers off the bat. But, between the woman at the bar and this guy, she feels her odds are better with him.

Leandra gives a quick nod, which he reciprocates. He turns on his heels, quickly but quietly sliding along the “backstage” wall until he reaches a stack of mead barrels. Leandra follows closely behind, looking over her shoulder occasionally to make sure no one is behind them.

The man runs his hand down one of the staves of the middle barrel, revealing a hidden button. Upon pressing it, a soft unlatching sound can be heard; revealing the back alley. The man steps out, holding the secret door open for Leandra before closing it swiftly but carefully behind them.

Once out in the alleyway, relief washes over her. But, that relief is short-lived as she tries to think of where she can go. Leandra’s eyes dart back and forth, half checking to make sure she isn’t followed and half searching for the best way forward. “If they found me at the Quaggoth, they almost certainly know I’m staying at the Bard Inn…way to choose the most obvious inn possible, Leandra. You dumbass,” she thinks to herself in frustration.

The man who helped her slip out of the Quaggoth waves a hand in front of her, snapping Leandra back to reality. 

“Lost in thought?” He uses a more lighthearted tone than Leandra finds appropriate.

“Something like that.”

The sun has set, but soft mage lights on the street give her a better view of the mystery man. He’s even more handsome than his voice led her to believe. He has streaks of grey peppered throughout his dark brown hair, a striking aquiline nose, and charming lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes. She gives him a tight, nervous smile as she holds her travel case and knapsack close to her person.

“You did me a real solid helping me slip out of there. I hope I can buy you a pint sometime to properly thank you for your kindness.” Leandra gives a polite nod as she starts down the alley.

“Do you have somewhere to wait out… whoever it is that you’re avoiding?”

Leandra pauses, then turns back to face him.

“No. Unfortunately, I don’t.” 

The man walks up to Leandra, looking over their shoulders occasionally to make sure no one is walking toward them.

“If you’re willing to extend your trust just a mite further, I know somewhere close that they’d never be able to get to. I know I’m just some middle-aged stranger, but I assure you I mean nothing untoward. You just seem… in need of some help, in need of a friend.”

Leandra scans his eyes and body language thoroughly. Reading people is a skill she picked up early, and one of the most vital in her arsenal when it comes to surviving on the road as a lone, young bard. She just needs to get away from here, then figure out her next steps. 

“I’ll follow your lead.” The man nods, then walks ahead of Leandra down the alley. He takes her hand in his to ensure she follows closely. The feeling of his soft skin and strong, sculpted hand around her pale, slender digits makes her heart skip a beat. Leandra brushes the feeling off as her nervousness from the situation, and focuses on following him out of the alley.

He looks both ways, then snakes them through various side-alleys, nooks, and crannies until they are near the harbour. To the east, a colossal statue of some sort of knight stands watch over the southern part of the city. Leandra’s ears perk up at the sound of a nearby group: a gaggle of tipsy students sing-shouting a drinking song with no sense of key or tempo. They walk with various slanted postures that make one wonder how any of them are remaining upright.

“Well, here we are.” The man’s voice snaps Leandra out of her distracted people watching to realise they’re now in some sort of garden. There is a groundskeeper’s quarters, some strange flora in a greenhouse, and a striking tower—all contained within stately stone walls.

“Gods above. I don’t know where we are, but it’s far too nice for the likes of me.” The grandeur of this place cracks Leandra’s usual defence mechanisms of false confidence and humour; allowing a sliver of the anxious, distrusting young woman she’s had to become show through. The kind stranger chuckles lightly to himself as he gazes at Leandra. 

“You are more than welcome here. Please, make yourself comfortable.” The kind stranger smiles warmly as he gestures toward a nearby seating area with a flourish of his right hand. Leandra smiles politely, but slowly makes her way over to stand near the seating area as she takes in her new surroundings. Noticing her uncomfortable body language, the man goes to the settee across from her to respect her personal space. He clears his throat to break the silence.

“Judging by how long your set went, I doubt you’ve had any time for dinner.” The man gives her a sincere smile, hoping to help her feel more at ease.

Leandra lets out a breathy chuckle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been following me. Or, you’re uncannily observant… which I’d argue is worse.”

The man gives a ‘guilty’ shrug and wince in jest. “Tonight was the first time I was fortunate enough to see a performance of yours, so I’m afraid it’s the latter.” 

Leandra perches herself on the armrest of the settee to her left, placing her violin case and knapsack on the ground. “So, uncannily observant it is.”

The man chuckles as he gazes up into Leandra’s big, amber eyes. “My attention to detail has been described many ways. Uncanny, unrelenting, unfortunate, and many other adjectives which I won’t dare repeat in front of polite company.”

Leandra’s heart flutters as he smiles coyly at her. She averts her gaze down to her boots as she wraps her arms around her midsection, shivering slightly from a slight breeze coming off the coast. Before she can get in another quip, her stomach makes an ungodly murmur from her neglected hunger. Leandra blushes and clears her throat as a futile effort to cover the sound.

The man smiles politely at Leandra as he rises from his seat. “It’s settled then. I hope pork tenderloin and fingerling potatoes will do?”

“No need to go to such trouble, sær. You’ve already done so much.” Leandra’s protest is met with polite “tuts” from the man as he moves to stand between her and the entrance to his tower.

“Please, I insist. From my recent culinary endeavours, I have more leftovers than I know what to do with. Besides, my mother would disown me if I were to let a guest go hungry,” he says with a cheeky smile and glint in his eye. The man thinks for a moment, then moves to stand closer to Leandra while still remaining a respectful distance away.

“And if it’s allergies or dietary restrictions you’re concerned about, I can most certainly take those into account! I assure you, it’s no trouble at all,” he says with a kind smile. 

He is so eager to please, to help. Leandra doesn’t know how to respond. She’s never met someone so genuinely altruistic as this gentleman…whose name she still does not know.

Leandra turns to face him more directly, still perched on the settee. “No allergies or special diets here. But, I can’t accept a meal from you in good conscience—I don’t even know your name.”

The man’s kind expression soon dissolves into one of quiet embarrassment. “Gods above, please forgive me. All this talk of trying to be a ‘good host’ and I forget my most basic manners. My name is Gale,” he says with an apologetic smile as he extends his hand to Leandra.

“Leandra,” she says as she shakes his hand. Her heart flutters again from the brief contact. The soft skin punctuated by a few subtle calluses, the defined veins and musculature, the feeling of her hand being delicately enveloped by his. It makes her core and cheeks flush in a way she’s never felt before. She withdraws her hand from Gale’s, hoping the rosiness of her face is hidden by the low light of the garden.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you properly, Leandra. I’ll be but a moment—please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime.” Gale pats the back of the settee Leandra’s perched upon before walking toward the tower. She watches as he becomes a distant silhouette; a faint sense of calm washing over her for the first time since she fled home as she breathes in the clear night air.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Table of Contents

s/o to these other wonderful Gale/Tav works on AO3 which inspired me to try writing my own fanfic for the first time! Definitely check them out if you haven’t already :)

first light by absoluteTomfoolery

Carrying Your Love With Me (and so much more) by MercyInReach

what should I do but tend by PouroverPaloma

Dekarioses of Waterdeep by Scotsomighty

also, s/o to these super helpful resources I've been using to write this!

Forgotten Realms Wiki

Obsidian Portal - City of Splendors, Dungeon of Madness

Waterdeep Interactive Map

Detailed Waterdeep Map by u/flamableconcrete (Reddit)

Detailed Waterdeep Ward Maps & Sublocations by u/RavenxAlmasy (Reddit)

Weather in the Realms (from Dandello's Faerûnian Almanac

[absenceisaformofwinter]

"TOUCH ME... I touch her ass and realize that, despite the mountain of years I carry on my shoulders, the gesture doesn't go unnoticed downstairs. She smiles. As tasteless as it may be, especially in a public place, this act of mine, like a horny teenager, seems to please her. We've spent a lifetime together. The truth is, I hope to be able to touch her ass even in the next one. Our children have become parents. Their children, our grandchildren, are instead dealing with their first loves. Reciprocated and unreciprocated. Everything as scripted. I don't hear as I used to. Sixty years ago, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks was my morning alarm. Today, when I want to chat with friends, I have to put on a stupid device in my ear. A kind of beehive full of hysterical bees implanted in my brain. With her, it's different. We talk with our eyes. A glance is enough, and everything is clear. Few words. Only when necessary. Practically never. After fifty years of marriage, at least a million bags of garbage thrown into various bins, and as many reproaches for not having done, or for having done but not in the right way, we're still here: in the pub of a provincial town, waiting for any Saturday afternoon to turn into darkness. I know it's funny. Two more than eighty-year-olds sitting at the bar drinking two pints of Guinness. In the face of gastritis and enlarged prostate. It seems like a scene from a Fellini movie. They talk about a few months. Three, maybe even six. Probably four. I know I shouldn't take it too seriously. After all, I've lived quite a bit. There are thousands of children dying every day. Even now, at this precise moment. If by adding their young ages until they reach my years, I were certain that my exit could save their lives, well... I would go more peacefully. I know it's not like that. It never will be. There's no contract that says life is a matter of algebra. There's no contract, truth be told. She doesn't know yet. I don't have the courage to tell her. How do you react to the news that the guy you've been sleeping with for more than half a century will be just an empty pillow in a few months? I don't know. I'm scared. Not just for me. Also for her. The truth is, we're not made to die. I know it sounds childish as reasoning, but I can assure you that's how things are. Every day you live life at a hundred miles an hour with the crazy desire to take your foot off the accelerator. Then, without any warning, the red light comes on, and you stop to refuel. You get back in the car, turn the key, and - plot twist - nothing happens. The engine doesn't roar anymore. It's dead. But how is it possible? You wonder. I was traveling at the speed of light just a moment ago. I had plans, aces up my sleeve to play at the right moment, and now I find myself with my pants down around my knees, waiting for a stranger to enter my rooms and clean house. Believe me: even at eighty, you make plans. And one of the most recurring ones, ironically, is not to die. Funny, isn't it? - Shall we go for another round? I look at her. She's beautiful. With the polka dot dress and matching glasses. - Why not! I exclaim - After all... I leave the sentence unfinished. She furrows her eyebrows. Maybe she understood. Maybe not. Maybe... who knows. I signal the bartender to bring two more. He nods. You still have a beautiful ass - I say, adjusting my hat. She smiles. A caress on the cheek. I close my eyes and prepare for the next round. Of Beer. Of Life.

TOUCH ME…

Le tocco il cuIo(ne) e mi rendo conto che, nonostante la montagna di anni che mi porto sulle spalle, la cosa non passa inosservata ai piani bassi. Lei sorride. Per quanto di cattivo gusto, soprattutto all'interno di un locale pubblico, questo mio gesto da teenager in calore sembra farle piacere. Abbiamo passato una vita insieme. La verità è che mi auguro di poterle toccare il cuIo anche nel corso della prossima. I nostri figli sono diventati genitori. I loro figli, i nostri nipoti, sono invece alla prese con i primi amori. Corrisposti e non. Tutto come da copione. Non sento più come una volta. Sessant'anni fa il rumore prodotto dalle onde del mare contro gli scogli era la mia sveglia mattutina. Oggi, quando voglio fare una chiacchierata con gli amici, devo mettermi uno stupido aggeggio nell'orecchio. Una specie di alveare pieno di api isteriche impiantato nel cervello. Con lei è diverso. Noi ci parliamo con gli occhi. Basta uno sguardo ed è già tutto chiaro. Poche parole. Solo quando è necessario. Praticamente mai. Dopo cinquant'anni di matrimonio, almeno un milione di sacchi di immondizia gettati nei vari cassonetti, e altrettanti rimproveri per non aver fatto, o per aver fatto ma non nel modo corretto, siamo ancora qui: nel pub di un paesino di provincia, aspettando che un sabato pomeriggio qualunque si trasformi in oscurità. Lo so che fa ridere. Due più che ottantenni seduti al banco di un bar a bere due pinte di Guinness. Alla faccia della gastrite e della prostata ingrossata. Sembra la scena di un film di Fellini. Parlano di qualche mese. Tre, forse addirittura sei. Probabilmente quattro. So che non dovrei prendermela troppo. In fondo ho campato parecchio. Ci sono migliaia di bambini che muoiono ogni giorno. Anche ora: in questo preciso istante. Se sommando le loro giovani età fino a raggiungere i miei anni, avessi la certezza che questa mia uscita di scena potesse salvare loro la vita, beh… me ne andrei più tranquillo. So che non è così. Non lo sarà mai. Non esiste alcun contratto dove sta scritto che la vita è una questione di algebra. Non esiste alcun contratto, per la verità. Lei non lo sa ancora. Non ho il coraggio di dirglielo. Come si reagisce alla notizia che il tizio con cui dormi da più di mezzo secolo, tra qualche mese sarà solo un cuscino vuoto? Non lo so. Ho paura. Non solo per me. Anche per lei. La verità è che non siamo fatti per morire. Lo so che sembra infantile come ragionamento, ma vi posso garantire che le cose stanno proprio così. Ogni giorno vivi la vita ai cento all'ora con la voglia matta di alzare il piede dall'acceleratore. Poi, senza alcun preavviso, si accende la spia rossa e allora ti fermi a fare rifornimento. Sali di nuovo in macchina, giri la chiave e – colpo di scena – non accade nulla. Il motore non ruggisce più. È morto. Ma com'è possibile? Ti chiedi. Stavo viaggiando alla velocità della luce proprio un attimo fa. Avevo dei progetti, degli assi nella manica da giocare al momento giusto, e ora invece mi ritrovo con le mutande calate all'altezza delle ginocchia in attesa che un corpo estraneo penetri nelle mie stanze e faccia piazza pulita. Credetemi: anche a ottant'anni si fanno progetti. E uno di quelli più ricorrenti, ironia della sorte, è proprio quello di non morire. Comico, no? - Ci facciamo un altro giro? La guardo. E’ bellissima. Con il vestito a pois e gli occhiali in tinta. - Perché no! - esclamo - In fondo… Lascio la frase a metà. Lei aggrotta le sopracciglia. Forse ha capito. Forse no. Forse… chissà. Faccio segno al barista di portarne altre due. Lui annuisce. - Hai ancora un gran bel cuIo - le dico aggiustandomi il berretto. Lei sorride. Una carezza sulla guancia. Chiudo gli occhi e mi preparo al prossimo giro. Di Birra. Di Vita. Fedeli al Vinile lo trovate qui: Fedeli al Vinile lo trovate in libreria

(Alessandro Casalini Scrittore)

[renatedagmarmilada]

The Misuse of Power-

JULY POETRY

 July- The face of british humanity

but when asked to test for USA

British Humanity died!

 when Anna of the lab St Barths Human Research

which is supposed to care for the retarded

dies and no longer has power of the ‘Machine’

Marshal Law will come to England

to sort everything out

again

they say..

 Until then

England will run wild and lawless

as she wills

as Anna of the lab St Baths Human Research

knows all the secrets

of all those at the top

 the care for the retarded

changed to manipulating

the People.......

 for the guy

who told me

we don't want to know your business

 it is not about my business

it is about what government departments

do to ordinary citizens

if they are helpless

 for years I wrote beautiful stuff

hinting by innuendo of what was happening

no one listened

a lot printed

but no one had the sense to look deeper

 so now I let you have it straight

which is all a woman can do

no innuendoes anymore

no guessing

those are the facts straight-

but then if I were a man

no doubt it would matter more

 women get the brunt

of this experimental

''treatment''

here and everywhere

and over the pond

the blacks

black women mainly

who must figure as we do here.

 PINK SILK AND GREY FEATHERS

 was it code

I asked myself

 driven out of this penine city

to the East End I grew to love

 having wrongly thought the hassle

was local grown not from the capital

 beaming to Jessop's Hospital

which has now had to be pulled down

(everywhere they use has to be changed in some way)

 the lab decided my demise

from life or what ever else

 one day returning to my home

there down Plashet  Road

 which their thieves regularly visited

the lab said they had three

 two black and one white

endless break ins the order of the day

 was it on the day

those men in royal blue

 macs I mean

followed me round the place

 as Sikh friend, platonic if you want to know

went about the East End for working materials

 maybe not

(I loved my number thirty nine to death

 but finally sucumbed and left)

found on my bed

 my silk underwear with a cut crotch

scattered with feathers on the top

 I have to admit though living here most of my life

I am not indigenous

 some of their messages

are beyond me to decode

 even at over forty-

the real message was

 that since I have never been able to afford

silk underwear, that was from my married days

 and to those who want to know

my hair is still naturally mid brown to this day

 but then can you decode

a circle of perfectly cut cubed green-glistening meat

 placed in an absolutely perfect semi circle -left

at my gate- good or bad?

 and I gotta tell ya

I ain't superstitious so it's lost on me!

 A BIG GAIL

 Abigail

oh such a big gail

 I put all that work into a journal for you

I told them it was what a penfriend told me

 I didn't know it was your prisoners work

for the last twenty four years

 at University, at home, on sites

now the lab is blocking Beta Poets altogether

 Nothing goes through to your two hundred and sixty three poems

We have taken some more from there and your folders

 his wife laughs at me

'don't worry, he put all your work into our system.'

 Muslim papers and work

copied from an east european refugee. More shame for them.

 Well, my son in law is a Ghandi extended family

I suppose so we have to suffer for that?

 I had always said

Indians are my family

 Pakistanis my friends

but they really do stab anyone in the back

 We gave away everyone who was in hiding

to our British conquerors back then

 robbed my bank account though a woman alone

a thousand for each one and have no shame!

 Now which journal Abigail

such a big gale

 or as their psychiatrist put on the air to me

'Your vagina is like a big pail says Carl'

 'Ich bin auch Jude' followed me round the East End

They call that a 'debasement programme' by the way!

 continued none stop through University lectures

through Mass, through all Churches

 over conversation and tv, over all music which is terrible

but I now no longer listen to words only melodies

 It is remote on airwaves no hiding from it

so there is no way of stopping them

 they call it the ultimate phase out

as we did no wrong they can never stop!

 seven years prison was what awaited them if caught

In America they get nine or so

 It's in - gracia

It's in Grazia!

 CAMILLA

 OH NO.........

not hyping my blood vessels again

on the machine given by America

to St Barths Human Research

 Camilla was in it, we keep turning it

the so called programme, turning it, turning it

Jewish spin doctors filled with sadism

letting Muslims spite whites

 Now we know why they had to ask for Partition

all India knew they had stabbed

their countrymen in the back

dare not let the Brits leave without hiding

 the lab had hundreds taken

from the Halifax, a month's wages for teaching

said it was for Camilla's part

in this major idiocy, going round, round and round

 now you have to have another change

well not a real one, one crime, a pomander of the queen

on the toilet role holder, another, admirer of Sydney Potier

blood vessels hyped their 'Stanis already practices that

 I quote here ''the silly cow

never went to the doctors''

got no medication through it

but we gave her the prince

 I had gone to the doctors, what is medication for ..

had no problems

but Anna boss of the lab

performs and faints all over the place twixt her men

 and when I had said

only women with the luxury

of time and money

can afford to have changes

 a poor working woman

with children and no father

really hasn't time

for such nonsense

 being English

feeling superior

she was mad as hell

so pays me back now with this experimental rubbish.

 Look it is true

in the Ukraine

the women worked in the fields

worked at home

worked everywhere

 who had time to drop all over the place

having changes

for goodness sake

I am only speaking the truth

 though I was here

my situation had been made

the worst possible by this lab with their experiments

''destroy their lives

and see how they cope''

 so my reaction was the same

in the Ukraine it was the same

poor women had to suffer for the rich

dragging their bodies around…

 MERIEL LABS

 Meriel is the Welsh form of Muriel

a varient form of of Meryl and Merle..........

 English Muriel

is that the connection

who told me it would be three generations

before the brits could consider

if we could become British....

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

don't think so.

 Meryl lived across the road to us

a long time ago

a sweet friend and her husband

they were Mormons

she made me smile

telling me after she gave birth to a son

you see..

all my babies who are not yet born

will be jealous because I will love this one so very much

a thought which had never entered my head

when I had my five in that decade

but typically sweet

They invited me to come and kneel and pray

at their home

with them

but believe me

no disrespect

but I had enough on

taking my tribe to Mass

along with my little sister in law

who lived with us

'cause the ex-es ma had topped herself-

sitting silently as supposed

making sure they didn't drop the collection money

as little boys will

and putting the pennies into their pockets

 Then years later

we met again

I worked at the Path lab of our local hospital

and so did she

 and Frank of the bright blue eyes used to watch

used by the lab St Barths Human Research he was

Frank was supposed to be their honesty get out

that is their way of working

making one aware that one is being watched that way

and interjecting odd little remarks

which sound as part of the conversation

till you become aware

and other crazed stuff like that.

I ought to add here right away

that the lab St Barths Human Research

has absolutely no respect

for hospitals, medical staff or any type of doctor

or anyone else to that matter.

except for their own lying and cheating

turning all others into liars and cheats

We may not drop on our knees very often

but we come from a people

who believe in God and our doctors

(but then we paid for ours

and they worked for us

not for lists of every sort.)

They're all lunatics there at that lab...

 and Meryl and I got on really well

though we worked super hard

N.H.S. believe in getting their moneys worth

and we had to ring young doctors and tell them off

for using the wrong blood bottles for the wrong blood

and stuff like that

 Meryl was a careful, slow soul

me, I chucked the bottles about quite sharply

Listen, I had Hep B as a kid refugee

and goodness knows what else not counted yet

and am still here

I reckon the almighty quite likes me in fact

so don't get het up about things.

 Now it happened we had a consultant there

that was Scunthorpe town

three in fact but one a woman,

a really nice blonde

who travelled from Sheffield town.

The lab are mad

please believe that

they think in weird ways and paths....

 so when they put her on the machine

(they probably had them all on

as they never admit anything

and it is all done in secret and remote)

they didn't know what to call her

so because she was a consultant of the Path Lab

they called her Meryl

though she is not a Meryl

and after I moved to Sheffield Town myself

they used her in set ups

(they are lunatics and use crazy set ups

which sane people like me ignore)

They told me the consultants private business

they tell me lots of details

saying they tell people

I need to know so they can tell them

lies about me which they call issues

but it is Anna of the lab who knows

and it is another honesty get out

so they put on lots of sexual abuse infact

which upset me at first

till I realised these people are not normal

but weirdos and lechers

quacks or not

admitting that they are nosey parkers

and get paid to do nothing better

but from me

a secret it will stay.

 Now foot and mouth comes from the Merriel Labs

another circle is complete

 Human Research are absolutely mad, cracked

lunatic, crazy, off their heads

or what ever else you want to call it.

 THE POST AGAIN?

 'I don't see why we have to rob her post, again..?'

because it is another freedom taken

all freedoms have to be destroyed for the family..

 'They demanded it on high' Anna

bossess of the worst programme in peace time

lied as always.

 On high

was a Tory M.P. person

who was also an ex-lover

whom she asked for something to put on the file

 He answered

I was sure once

my post was lost or with-held

then it came

 for that

presents from China to my daughter

presents to grandson Josef from China

presents to my other grandsons

not only the

twenty four paintings I sent them

dozens of other presents I sent to people

 including one to my friend in Russia

to whom I sent warm woolly clothes

worth hundreds

were taken by the lab

 four hundred of my poetry books

over three hundred of my letters

and a long list of other thieving

from a lab full of thieves

 They demanded it on high

was the lie

 The lab manipulates the post

as it pleases

(even exam papers)

 Anna just ensures they get lost

like the thieves from the directed thieving in my house

as she watches there

quiet as a mouse

though they see she talks like a rubbish pusher

twenty to the dozen

or as the Civil Servants said

how could we be blamed

she breezed in full of life

after our stuffy wives

(I wonder if I was a stuffy wife too?

but honestly

there at the Ministries!

my ex old man always used to say

never go to toilet in your own back garden

which does make sense you know.)

at the lab St Barths Human Research

of which she is the bossess

from all that bonding

 (She asks them after the so called programme

and which was the lie?)

still maximizing

endlessly

criminally

by some of the worst criminals

the world has ever seen

if the truth were ever to be allowed

and we come from Stalin and Hitler country!

 THAT’S A NICE ENOUGH CARDI..

 Being stateless refugees

enemy aliens to boot

we were always very poor

though poached to come here

 no benefits for us

no child allowances

no housing benefits

nothing

 what we had we worked for

and always lived within our means

so robbing us

is taking the lot

 Our presents were smaller

than yours are

but our celebrations happier

for that

 In mum's country

a knitted sweater is an essential

people don't bother much with coats

with four kids, my time was limited

 so every Christmas

mum would give me a knitted sweater

which I cared for lovingly

washed and wore constantly

 she knitted them in all the different austrian styles

long and straight

coloured edgings and patterns of every kind

thick jacket types

 Mustafa of the lab St Barths

robbed my suitcase as planned

from Manchester Airport Emirates

paying an Airport Employee who drove it out

in his grey car

 The suitcase was to do for one whole year

teaching in China, C.D's. players, books and such

at my age I like my own clothes

where ever I go

 Get this

because they had had my paintings and writings

copied by others

the lab boss Anna wanted my clothes worn by others

 'sposed to be psychology

so Mustafa told his wife

you have to wear her blouses and cardis

and one or two other people too

 the english girls at the lab say

each time he wanted something

he came to their lab to check

it was not in my suitcase

 so his wife had to wear my cardis

and silk shirts which I can never replace

years and years of collecting

she wasn't keen but he made her

 (Are they the ones who live near Marble Arch

and collect family credit I wonder)

so yesterday on the bus they passed the message

they do that constantly

 nice enough cardi

the cardi your mum knitted you

all the year as she was going blind

and someone here pinched my mum's best clothes

 this is what the british call

'research' and circles..

I would say neither jews nor muslims

know the ten commandments

 as the german retired consul they used had said

they all need some Sunday School, no good

the Church of England was in it too

and took some of my poetry as theirs/hers.

 (Remember, the queen went to talk to the Pope)

 EVERY FREEDOM GONE

 The whole media played along

they chose look alikes

stories alike

and have them taunt

 the thief of a painter

one of the fine artists they used

("I deserve to cheat and lie

and copy yours

I didn't pass my school leaving exams

you did

so why should you be an artist too")

 sunday morning tv

switched on

remember the tv never goes on

without them taunting

and the whole media plays along

 "I don't know where you get your ideas from!"

(my life actually

and that of my family-

were I english

I would be ashamed

to make mainstream

a poor refugee woman

stateless, elderly

her final work

as british work ..

but one thing the Brits never had

was shame)

 but I know how I use them.........

 British art and literature stink of copying

they stink worse than Nazi art

or communist art

They were at least about an ideal

when people thought there was no other way

 the british

in their magpie way

as usual

have art and literature

about thieving vulnerable and helpless people..

 I had thought at first

it was merely a game of nerves---

---as I heard all our family jests

and the rest

on the tv daily and nightly

so stopped listening

and was comforted by the Bishop at Lahore

where I had fled years ago

thinking a bit of peace

who said at Mass

(they had stopped debasement

over Mass by then)

'these media guys think they are the world

take no notice'

L.A. had told them to make us

so known by others we could never

talk of our own again--

----and they would stop

that was years ago

and still it goes on and on

"she (that's me to you) is a nice little earner

use them to the core

just as they did in Auschwitz

in another of their stories

 Theresienstadt did not screw out the painters minds

they got them to copy famous art works by the way.

 Let her paint and write the lab said

we will use it all as ours

the jews as jewish stories

the brits as british stories

every hair she has'

which they are now again removing daily

though I lost none in China..

 the pakistani toilet cleaner:

I put on the machine a 'change'

like our women always moan of

and you never have

and I put on it sweats like our women say

but a hundred times more intense

but only during lesson times

hyping your blood vessels by laser

(so I catch cold as the air hits me)

and wispy hair

once taken by the machine cannot grow

(that's a form of punishment

They told us to change you..)

so you lose your brown fine hair

(identical to Camp Five Auschwitz-

idiots playing with sophisticated machinery)

we wanted you running to the doctor

the jewish quacks said

so we could claim you were a hypochondriac

not to be believed

and merely say

just how resourceful are you

then we can claim we thought of it.

 That is how the lab works

intense intense intense everything.....

each human has a smell of their own

you all know that

so they intensified my vaginal smell

a million times

and told their students and women

-that is how I smell (done remote)

then they put on dirty smells of me as I teach

and dirty smells of others to me

it is so stupid it defies description

from this file which it appears reads

(german paid to come to the lab

to use the english population told me)

-am dirty, stupid and a whole list of horrors

written by the jewish quacks of the lab

(remember we saved jews)

and they must punish me for that.

 Like the hot water with Margaret

and so many other disasters

anything is possible

from this new energy displacement machine

used in the most evil imaginable way

by raving lunatics and idiots playing....

 Oh America

why didn't you check to whom you give such power

before you let them have the power and advances

They don't play like you......

they don't use prisoners and slobs

they use the hard working, decent and their citizenry

and help the rapists and yobs.

You after all freed yourself from the corrupt island

why do you put corruption back into their hands?

 ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE NOW..

 circle circle Papparozi

makes it all seem normal now

 circle circle foot and mouth

Sars was back too and all the other shouts

 circle circle chinese skimming again

then they say I can teach over there

 circle circle covering again

it is an ordinary negative psychology ploy

 circle circle just some decent useful people, what the hell

as long as we the criminals survived

 circle circle use it all again

no one thinks of what is really going on

 circle circle are you going to repeat it all

plane and train crashes, erruptions and floods too?

 circle circle each country has to manage an internal disaster

after we of St Barths will use our machine to give the answers

 circle circle, the biggest blag of all time

all of England's art and literature destroyed...

 circle circle, as apathetic humanity goes shopping

scratches its backside and doesn't care

 circle circle the most corrupt of all cheats

controlling us and everything

 circle circle the most corrupt of all cheats

controlling us and everyone and thing

 circle circle they rule the world

because none of us cared even the law

 St Barths Human Research has won the day

''so you got away with it all'' their helpers chuckle

 the citizenry of the country

they've used for a long, long time

they 'got' me on their machine in eighty four

in this country we ran to for safety

then they got those surrounding me

then they came for the Princess

then they came for the M.Ps

then they came for the objectors

then they came for me

then there was no one left to object for me

in all the noise I would not listen

to that one or two quiet voices telling

and the big voice in my head screaming

 seems humanity deserves what has and is happening

too busy with their toilet

 as we wait for the contolled world

but not controlled as we had hoped

 and we've seen it all before

if only I were young enough to fight not just to sigh.

 THE CRITICAL AGE

 The critical age has gone far too far

the libertines have all gone mad

sense has flown out of the windows

 Time to renew what we think

teachers were bashed

respect for teachers disappeared

 how can a teacher teach without respect

 Now the Police are being bashed

respect for the Police disappears

and slowly those who want anarchy

are winning the day

 how can the police police without respect

 the critical element often do not realise

they too will lose in the long run.........

It began with the bashing of the Church methings

 without respect all will collapse

and no one will know peace or happiness

as only money will be left

 Bought respect is no respect

and we should know

we've seen it all collapse before

 But the West has yet to learn

Capitalism is about Profit

but money cannot buy respect

 All systems on earth are faulty

run by humans

only God is perfect as has so often been noted

 those with faults a'plenty

spend their time running down

those who try to keep some sort of order

 'give it a rest guys

and stop those devils like St Barths research

turning our countries into corrupt personal havens of power.'

 NEbRAT SE A NE KRAST SE

 Sheffield Faire.........

"at Sheffield Faire we exhibited

hoping you would see

 the special feature

being there...

YOUR work for all to see.."

 but whose name was with the work?

we saw no Fekete there

and all things done by me

are signed RF or surname sigged...

 Sound over the mongolian C.D.

tuning my Hi Fi sounds

(a method of theirs for two decades now)

as I unpack my things returned

from teaching in China poor

where thieving is not a sport

but only done to fill empty bellies

 'modern flowing songs'

picked the most beautiful tune of all

to tell me of this latest move

"and now we have to repeat it all again"

the lab wishes to prove I am

merely ordinary with endless dishonesty?

 (I happen to believe in the individual-

that we all have a spark of something..

Though it is more than time to curb births

to reasonable numbers

in our overflowing world

it is time and more than time

to stop family allowance

except for the very poorest

to make people responsible

for the life they create-

however, those already born deserve a life)

 So now to Sheffield Faire I must

to see MY work anew

the ten to twenty hours a piece

of solid none stop work

it takes me to paint each scene

as a fine artist filched of all ideas

 and they added after it all

"that's why we had to pinch it all

from your little two up and down

which you call Fenris House

Pagehall in your end of town

so you can never prove

what lying cheats and thieves

we all really are...................."

 Wish they lived here

so I could teach their children

at one of our schools

who will probably all become thieves too

I could teach

that thieving from old ladies

is not a nice thing to do..

 not even for the lab St Barths Research

and all their guarantees of sales they give

in hell your soul will burn for such spite

if such a thing as a soul you even possess#

 the t.v. says everyone thinks

these cheats have done really well

but they merely copied it all

to order............

 FRANCE!

 Twice now

St Barths Human Research

we need to get a foothold

into France

 They are holding off

just like the Russians

I want a handle in France

 If she goes over there

(She is me to you)

They might believe her

 We have a part of America

We have all of Germany

We have Italy and Spain

We have the Chinese and more

 But the French

like the Japanese and Russians

are being stubborn

which is just what they said

about me.....

 'India has already fallen long

there will be an influx of theirs'

(the lab brings in a mass inxudus

from which ever country it wins)

and the Mongolians objected to such

 The Germans turned out more

stupid than we had ever guessed

as did the Huns all on our screen

 We have the Poles too

but the French are holding off

They were always a nuisance

 ....and Brown has given Ann of the lab

the Green light to go on

she merely shrugged-

he lost a baby for it.

(they all have to have a disaster first

Blair's was the miscarriage)

 The slow killing of the Party

by the 'Old Boys.'

 LOBBY?

 what the lab did was simple

 having been caught out

breaking international law and internal law

ran screaming

 'I've made a mistake

I'll cover it with your permission'

 There was a lobby

against that kind of experimentmentation

 She merely killed them off one by one

with the old boys behind her, all former lovers

 'look, what does it matter

we just destroyed a few careers and lives..

 we repeat the attrocities in different ways

to see what the result will be.

 we don't use rats

we use the Miss (me) and her family instead.

 In England people are quite law abiding

Anne just rides over the law

 but looks and talks the law

no one thinks to check her

 They just don't expect people

to break the law on purpose in that field

 Lives ruined of artists for an experimental idea

untested stuff and a battery of lies from the top

 Dennis Civil Servant of the Health Ministry

and Arthur and Arnold, lovers one and all

 showed the lab how to take from citizens without being caught

decrease pensions, rob banks and the rest on computer.

 Such are the keepers of the Crown

Though as a child new here in this country

 I was told I may not swear loyalty

to the Queen at the Brownies as I was a foreigner

 but we are more loyal and think more of what loyalty is

though we are only 'closet heroes'

 than all those over-puffed dictators of this corrupt LAND.

 THE QUEEN

 The Queen

wished to know

exactly

what and how many attrocities

 She will be told

that which is good

for a Queen to know

 We ofcourse have to lie to you

to the British Crown

to the questions they ask

 The Queen asked

what were the attrocities

the attrocities will be cut but not on you..

 some things are better

for the Crown not to know

we'll show proper respect but..

 and later came this

we've told her Highness

all we dare

 we told her there were links

to your childhood which is ridiculous

we're practicing on the public

 we havn't said that

so sayeth the lab

she/me is going to talk now, whatever

 At this point

I could write

one of my clever little lines

 quoting past and not so past

lechers and liars

but I think myself

 we have to repeat all attrocities

we lied then about you all (not forgotten)

so now we have to add more lies called issues

 when an evil idea begins

all the animals appear from nowhere

creeping out of the woodwork

 enough has been said ....

when the Queen asks

honesty should be the answer

though not indigenous we would give only honesty...

 footnote:

P.M. Brown was told 'you were alright

with being used

for robbery and torture.'

I am disappointed.

 THE LAST DAYS OF A PRINCESS

 Ann of the lab

its bossess at Barths

puts on a disaster programme for some

on that person's co-ordinates

 for some they get every help

that this form of corruption can bring

every help that can come without sting

from dishonesty and cheating

 Once we have them in this system

we never let them free

for good or for bad

they stay on our machine

 We've broken every law

on the family and around

not a soul can see but few

and no one can catch us out

 For now........

They're advanced beyond anything

any of the secrets they pretend to reveal

with such thoughtful 'honesty'

 WOMENS’ NODULES

 'women who paint deserve this sort of treatment'

wilful wrecking of a life

in a slow dispassionate manner..

 I am that woman who paints

of whom they rant

this was four days ago, not four hundred years ago

 'Lee got your arms and t*ts'

what did Lee do?

you've heard of stronium rays

 he pressed each single nodule in my breasts

a very painful process

but unseen done remote

 still sometimes not so heavily

and often continue underarm

because we are not seen as human

 Even the birth of my nine pound breech Patrick

was not as painful as what they did repeatedly

it activates any cancer cells a woman might have

 Human Research may do as it wills

government and royalty allow it so

fear and horror of the silent screams are meaningless

 Someone did ask the other day

did she feed her five babies herself

(Research never checks anything!)

well no, she was too ill after each birth

 No need to worry about these Huns mixed with Irish

they are not like we british or jews

they don't feel pain of experiments though are far too sane!

 Has it all been done before

yes, to patients in hospitals and out

who could not even guess what it was all about.

 ''Let's find something for the Irish to do

so they forget about fighting us''

put them into performance arts to use up their virility

 The world run by the new leaders

St Barths Human Research

sounds just like Hitler and Stalin to us

 Jewish 'doctor' Meyer, wife and niece sold mine to Topshops, adds

'I wanted to see you a physical wreck'

Do you know, that is probably what they said at Camp 5!

 (more doctors, doctor Mengele this time.

They say that mob learnt from their earlier jewish mentors)

 DIRECTED THEFTS

 Returned from teaching in China

to try to stay alive

in every way

 Here in blighty

though the place is filled with terrorists

they kill the useful and decent

 One phone call to the top

and all is gone

no work, no safety, nothing

 Still torturing daily

gaining in intensity again

the directed thieving continues

 they merely disable the electric alarms

now I find

not only every  story I ever wrote gone

 paintings too ofcourse

now being copied by this two faced nation

private things included

 photos of the bapitsm

of my chinese goddaughter

why you think

 they were present

I am on a machine

where they torture they rob all afterwards

 chinese silk tablecloths for mum

clothes I bought for mum before leaving

(silk shirts and good skirts, all gone)

 they used carers to steal those

directed by the lab a list too long

to give out thefts from me

 it is supposed to go round and round

though mum is ninety and I over sixty

Dad's death certificate taken

 why, we killed him

war time papers to show where he was

mum's Czechoslovak citizens papers

 all taken so there can be no return

They said we had to start totally anew

someone yesterday remarked

 They are nothing but racketeers

at St Barths Human Research

behavioural science on their killing spree

 and other things, so many other things

taken by these monsters

cowardly people who can only hit the weak

 One silver lining

the bossess Anna wanted to put a stop to my poems

on Beta they wiped and changed them

 You will not compromise me she stormed

by telling the truth. They were told

THIS site is american

 America would have to stop them

Hurrah for free speech!

is there really more freedom elsewhere?

  People wont look me in the eye

and mutter

they are leaning on you british style

 but why?

 the tv overtalks which they use constantly

I quote just now

'pump some more then send us the stories

The Eastenders'

 I do not send the stories

the lab St Barths Human Research

sends them through its cheats

 The directed thefts of all my stories and diaries

were written at Sheffield University Writers Group

at Sheffield Polytechnic B. Ed English specialism Course

 At Forest Gate writers groups

at Whitechapel writers groups

at the University of East London and other Universities

 The bossess spends hours and hours they say

sitting at her computer mixing and matching

their illegal processing of us

 with their own dirty stories (we will use ourselves)

instead of caring for the retarded and needy

which is supposed to be their real job for which they are paid

 to ensure all the lab members

who have used use, robbed us and written my work

cannot be caught..there are no crimes for them

 I have been celibate for over a decade

and my 'pumping'- in my language, love making

was barely enough to cover one poem even!

 Address the lab-  East Enders. Not me.

one of their most evil men, hotted up the file

saying we were too boring!

 GIVE THEM SOME STICK..

 They are knocking seven bells out of you-

several of their criminal friends

invited to try out any tortures

literally...'use it' they say on the phone

have commented

(we are 'it' not people)

 They call it

giving some stick, our way

It is meant to shut you up

The jewish doctor Meyer

who took drawings home

to his wife and his niece

who sold them to Topshop

drawings I had done

visiting a Synagogue

and from my mother's stories

of old Bratislava

-said all this

This doctor knew

we had fed jews

back in Bratislava

I ought to mention that

 Since my return from China

to my family

sons and ninety year old mum

the level of pain therapy

as one wit calls their torture

stick is just another word for torture

but as stick is given in the West

by jewish doctors

it can't be called torture, do you see?

 The pain level of the all night probes

is so high now

I wake up with my face yellow

They put the shock on all night too

that was Wolf, the german, scientist's invention

yes, ofcourse the germans are in it up to their necks..

squeezing heart valves, lung and the other stuff

for the brits on request

 not surprising really

Hitler called the scientists for a little competition

to see who could kill the jews the quickest

(that's why we fed and clothed those we could

though we had seven children in our family)

They say that jewish psychiatrists then

used these things on german patients

so the tables were turned at the camps

(They should have caught the doctors responsible)

Now the jewish doctor Meyer does the same to us

only they like to hit friends

every night

every night

getting worse each night

that way she will forget..?

 How do you prove a remote probe

used beyond endurance

year in year out.

 I wrote to the medical Council at the top

they wrote me a stupid letter back

telling me to go to a doctor!

(doctors often tend to imagine

no other human have any brains by the way

it is a common fault of theirs)

I went to see a lawyer

a famous lawyer at that

known for being sympathetic

he said: go to a doctor.

Without the detail

I told a woman lawyer

The lab didn't answer her letters

and that was that.

 That's what happened to women

in the States

who dared to complain..

then they were put back

with the men who had tortured them

though the States does try to monitor

we are like those women

We have no real home

made stateless by the big three

They belonged neither to Africa

nor to the States wholly

 If I told the Chinese

what they do in Brittania

they wouldn't believe me

do you know that..

some of them feel guilt

at all the shouting about and at them

and haven't a clue

what the maniacs over here do -

secretly

endlessly

without ever stopping

with our Ministry's knowledge

and some of the Government too

to the population at large

and to some in particular

 They haven't learnt yet from the Brits

secrecy and cunning...

 All a woman of sixty-two can do

is try to continue each day

as the pain in the morning subsides

knowing the women at the lab torture

without ever caring a hoot

hope at least friends on the net

will read and listen

-people rarely do

 Sometimes during lessons I give

they put a probe on to my cranium so hard

the pain becomes unbearable

(It's like someone bashing your head

with a stick non stop)

that's a guy called Green from Redbridge

from the south London Liberal Synagogue

they say with massive sadistic tendencies

and is now on full pay

but not at work

as he wouldn't stand inspection

 He took my paintings home for his daugher Fay

from the damned machine

to copy and his wife copied

our refugee stories for the Woman's World

as jewish refugee stories!

After she had falsified our signatures

filling in the forms of permission

to be used as volunteers and patients

exactly as Hitler's mob had done

(they cry about that, yet do the same-

and why us, we helped them?

It is beyond me to understand)

They copy paintings I did

after Synagogue lectures

that is the most amazing thing of all

Innuendo she said, that was all

innuendo...

(they tell us remote

using tv, music and all sound vehicles)

and then broke my foot..remote of course

after which their Mustafa

broke my arm socket for me..

 and I have to face another night

remote probes bashing

will he knock my cranium in tonight?

It is called weakening the threat

hopefully - they think-

for an early death.

It works very well

as the victim goes through the day

looks normal

just a little sicker than yesterday

in more pain

not even the people you live with

appreciate what is happening

the bruised organs are all inside

nothing is visible on the outside

just a little sicker than yesterday

stumble to teach

the springy step gone for ever

Nothing abnormal

nothing to be seen.

 It is ten p.m. already...........

 OFFSET BY BANK CHARGES

 banks were told

that behavioural science

no, it is not proper human research

St Barths lab

were experimenting

The banks permitted it

though we are their customers

 The lab could hack

into our accounts

what little money we had

and roll it

to their own advantage

The banks would try tricks

which could not be detected

move our money into others accounts

as the german woman banker

who took one thousand from my account

and put it into a german woman's

as part of the experiment

closing the loopholes for the brits

It would take a book

to describe all the thieving

the lab committed on our family

as an experiment they said...

 I sold the family home

ten thousand is for us a lot of money

a woman alone with kids

and ancient refugee parents, scared

they took it out of bank after bank

such is the financial state

in this wonderful Britain

were helpless women

are robbed by labs

thousands taken over the years

 as they pretend to be science

they offset each crime committed on us

by giving the nation something

 robbing us

as we are so vulnerable

leaving the kids literally starving

letting each asian lab member health worker

take out of our accounts

as they pleased

they ordered the bank charges be changed

(we try to do some good

so no one wants to get us!)

 If we go abroad

they do the same to us there

It is called a programme

because they bashed us to smitherenes

are scared of being caught

they ensure everyone else bashes us too

 The brits never change..

 MERSEYSIDE LIVER BIRDS AGAIN..

 The Liver Birds

Mersey you mean

yes..yet again

 it came through yesterday

the lab emails it

all your work

she gives us to use

 this time

it even includes your letters

from China

and those love letters

to your husband

stories about your children growing up

about their grandparents and your grandparents

about you and those about you

in those blue school exercise books

taken by the lab directed thefts

by their ten lab thieves

 Lab members get the work straight

to print as it stands

others have it mixed

with dirt written by the lab bossess

evidently she has a mind like a sewer

and they decided to punish me

for their own misdeeds

so get this

they try to give me their illnessess

their misfortunes

their weaknesses

and their dirt...

-they thought that one up

we'll make the victims of our crimes

pay for our crimes

and the government and Ministry agreed

so they would not have to pay compensation-

 they call that mixing and matching

so that there is every variation out there

and if I should ever write or paint anything

it will be old hat and over used work

the lab told the liver birds:

we were all committed!

 (gosh

must tell my daughter

Principal of a College

son

top Engineer of an American company

and the rest

and me too

committed?

I teach College and University)

 that was eight years of my writings

often written in my bed at nights

which the junior Health Minister copied too

given by the lab

 and a black girl too

 well, just put they came out of darkest Africa

instead of Hungary..

same difference

when it is Behavioural Science

destroying literature and people

 all through the lessons

of Hanuf and Sameesa and the rest

to which the Pakistani's at the lab listen to

not having had an education

to see what they can glean

 (they used to use the frustrator during lessons

for years and years

that is, they irritate your womb

told me today

they were going to say

'why do you constantly feel like that'?)

 Just as Anna of the lab St Barths

used to listen to my mum and dad

when they chatted to each other

(Simon Telewny and wife

political satirist known world wide)

Only bl**dy foreigners

after all

and all of them

so vulnerable

so old

with her remote machine

and then went to talk to the Ministry

she serviced

to impress them

with old Simon's opinions

after they had told her

'not too bright gel..what

but ok with your over the desk'......

 Our whole family

taken prisoners

slowly destroyed

one by one

and manslaughtered.

 As I type over microsound

''you let them.''

 YOU WHAT...........?

 It is unprovable

that is why they use it..

that is why their fellows

over in the States

gave them the methods

outlawed

and the machinery

but I will not be cowed..

 even though their newpaper cheats

write up my stuff

for their leaders

knowing full well

I too worked on a newspaper

as did my dad..

 Ah, the evil these cowardly brits do

and say it is now global!

can't take on anyone their own size

strike faceless in the night

without owning up

remote..

 They say now they are going to try

to take down son-in-law's family

Brahmin's in India

Disasters to happen to them too

remote..

with love from England.

 NEW STARS AND STARLETS

 All things are found in literature..

all life is repeated in literature..

 The Mafia of Sicily was cancerous

to its society

to its inhabitants

to the land it inhabited

 Merit meant nothing

Talent meant nothing

Work meant nothing

The Mafia gave you your profession

as a gift

for its own uses...

 The Lab St Barths Human Research London

is cancerous

to its society

to its inhabitants

to the land it inhabits

 Merit means nothing

Talent means nothing

Work means nothing

The lab gives you your profession

as a gift

for its own uses..

 They have neither skill

nor do they understand anything

as they lie to all about them

 Once people paid to come to England

it gave prestige to come to England

the talented and the rich came here

 Now anyone can come to England

just spin a good tale

or hide away and claim

 and those who have money

flee this country

its corrupt top stays silence about the truth.

 ..and the lab?

' the brutality will come through

it will be heard and known with time ...'

'No, we will begin to do good works..' I quote

 so, more Autobahn to be built.....

'We have a surfeit of population' he said

Let the secret experiments on the population begin

 That's where it all began..

fine, we understand that

but why destroy us

hard working

clever and talented

That's the rub

and let's not mention a certain lady...

 SOME FOLKS, LISTEN

 Listen.........

 not all Christians are white

not all Whites are Christians

 not all Muslims are brown

not all brown people are Muslims

 not all Africans are wild

not all wild people are Africans

 not all Chinese people are communists

not all communists are Chinese

 the ' not all' continues

without end...

 so listen to that person first.

Some folk listen….

 A ONE HUNDRED PERCENT FIRST

 in this circling

of all crimes

to test the arm

of the lab St Barths research

 so they can rule the land

in their way

not that of justice

and honesty

 compensation of course is circling

Although one of the best pupils

at Grimsbly Art College

They 'over used' my lecturer

at the next Art College

It is called manslaughter

and not he alone

He had to give me a fail..

 Then Scotts Francene

who works at the lab

copied all my poetry as hers

guaranteed sales by the lab

so when I did my Institute

Language test,

paid for by a grant by the Council

so sure were they of success..

I am a mother speaker by the way

They took it out of the post

.....having asked a director

whose name they say is similar to mine

who gave the lab permission

to rob all post from my post

told him that they were doing an experiment

(white coats and telephone calls

are always believed)

hundreds of letters

presents to grandsons...

and sent another test paper instead

a fail...

 Reduce, reduce, reduce

(as the german said

a true Hiterite reduction

to the death, as were those

with added british cunning )

having told a director

of the Institute of Education

that they were doing an experiment

(white coats and telephone calls

are always believed)

 Over the tv

they always tell me the real marks

not the bogus fails they force

so the Institute of Linguists

was a credit, seventy percent

and as  all my marks are Oxford marked

that would be higher than it seems

(that is supposed to be a present

to be Oxford marked in all things!

Secretly!)

Art College also

Masters a second in reality

and Bachelors a first..

 (they used Chris

an oxford grad

would be lover of the lab bossess, Anna

who wrote two books of my poems from the lab

as a pressy from Anny

-and a Tyne Tees Lecturer

to help them sort this out)

 to make up for all this messing

and murdering of lecturers

they now have to do the opposite

 a lab friend needed a first

to go on to what she wanted to do

so they helped her with all she wanted to know

so that she got a perfect first..

this lying cheat

now has the title of:

a clever girl..

yeah, clever indeed.

Knows whom to butter up.

The lab has done this same cheating

for several of the women hangers-on

all of their cheats are protected

and their are so many of them now!

 Let's hope it doesn't end up like the earlier one

Pam of the Ministry of Pensions

who upped my old mums tax

to millionaire level

Pensioners with nothing but hard work

rebuilding the heavy industry of this country for them

had a daughter studying German

I am trilingual since childhood

so they gave her all my notes

(which was ridiculous

as there was an english version in the Goethe)

I just naturally translate in my head

and then gave Pam's daughter a first..

 Poor girl got a job in a Bank

then couldn't understand the german clients..

 I hated Hitler

he was a destroyer

hiding under the guise of help...

because he and the lab St Barths research

here in England

were and are as one..

but you know

when you hear the truth of things

you can understand why-

why people worked for him..

He needed ability

but sadly, he went mad..

 If only Anna of St Barths Lab

and our government which knows exactly

what that super-evil female is doing

would go mad

as the people she sends mad

and join them in her own place of hell.

Some of her own workers

have said the very same thing.

Who would have thought England

was so corrupt.......

 certainly not we!

 This time, it

was Libby....

 WHO IS ALBERT

 Sitting here at my computer

this message comes through

using microsound..

 Microsound as BBC2 told

is aimed from a computer

at your co-ordinates

at sound higher than human hearing

The lab uses this all the while.

 No I am not deaf

but the Lab St Barths research do not help people

they use technology

to teach people how to steal and lie

and steal, lie, cheat and kill for their own pockets

to feather their own nests

how to destroy all that is decent and hardworking

They are the horror dictators of this generation

again

just as in Auschwitz camp five

which is the real reason why there is so much unrest.

 "This is Albert

I thought I could make use of your life's work

and I have...

You don't know who I am

Go to the beginning...........

You can't because you don't know what it is.

 We are invited into a studio

A machine has all your life's work

painting, sketches, stories, plays, poems

University Essays all of it

Everything is used time and again

by anyone they want

and we are all weak and cheats..

we are allowed to rob whatever we want

You are not considered as humans

nor as having any Rights what so ever..

You are considered as their toy, their lab rat

because they have used you for terror and pain

for over twenty two years now..

Remember all those they have killed in that time

and be thankful..

the old whore of the Health Ministry

the new murderers in white coats

just as we saw them before

The media, just as during Hitler

led by the nose of this dictator.."

 For this privilege

of robbing your work

and torturing your family

in every way possible

we had you raped several times

in your fifties..

that was our compensation

(in our past

women who were raped repeatedly

went mad)

 "I am going to go public

that is Lee the 'Pustules' man

but I will tell lies about you in my paper.

We make out that you are a mindless retard."

 What a miserable creature you are Albert!

 GENIUS

 They seek genius here

they seek genius there

 and most of us academics

know quite a lot about the subject

 One thing not reported

from the secret labs St Barths research

 the machine America

gave them to get them out of trouble

 can hype your brain up a notch

whilst you are on the machine

 and it might activate cancer

if you have that in you

 they also found

when one of their Pakistani toilet cleaners

 tried to hype up his brain

little happened and ofcourse he complained

 sadly, if you do not have the natural stuff there

the machine can't raise you any further

 It can only increase to its full capacity

what is already in existance

 We are all different

God made us so

 so, sadly, these 'expert' Asians, former health workers

have to be hoiked up artificially in their lab

 Poor England being run by such a mob!

Incidentally, the machine can make you forget things..

 all things are temporary on the machine

sexual highs all of it

 as soon as you are off the machine

the extra hype disappears

 even if you are a Majesty!

 KEEP CIRCLING

 This secret queen who rules

who maybe thinks to emulate

the earlier Elizabeth the first

but sadly brings no honour

Anna of the lab St Barths

they said today so not my words

I always admit a quote

(having been properly educated note)

 '..is like a rat

with the plague

who will not stop

until everyone is smitten with the plague

or she drops dead..'

 'Has all been circled?'

she asks even the purple

so all is circled

but like myself

this test of their powers

is meaningless to normal folk

 All is circled goes like this

a secret programme being run

chaos theory shake everything up

with the new technology

of energy displacement

anything is possible

 all their crimes have to be repeated

in different ways to cover the first crime

so for instance

we now have the second pavarozzi

 or for instance

Harcourt is now repeated

The first was a Head teacher

who gave a third for a first from the machine

(with lab persons, this is now normal)

now Harcourt is repeated

(yes, it is world wide

few have resisted this evil)

 most will think it coincidences

but if you keep records

and know of what has gone on over the years

you will find that all is repeated

and the media plays with them

We had always trusted the B.B.C.

 and it goes on and on

like a bad play which will not end

He had warned his President

but be aware

it will really shake everything up

As someone said the other day

Brown is on their machine

so don't look for relief with him

 The lab keeps pushing theirs to the top

the stupid and the mediocre

No it doesn't shock us

chicken farmers once ruled Germany

with Hitler in charge

and the plague ridden rat

is exactly like her twin

 But Anna of the lab has America

and all its technology

He had not learnt the one thing

she knows to do so well

to smile, smarm or bed

anyone she needs

which order I do not say

 They tell me to talk-

you know the truth

you've known the truth

for a long, long time

why don't you talk

and so do plenty of others

know the truth

including my government

and the governments of others

hoping all will pass by

with a few patronizing gestures

don't ever tell me again

leaders are there to serve us!

why don't they talk

the grease on their palms

might thin and disappear....

 They tell me the lab St Barths

only tells a small amount

to each person it uses

That is its safety measure.

    THE GODFATHER

 In literature

you find it all

 reading the Godfather

I found this little tale

 'we wanted to be American

so we did as Americans did

 but they did not respect us for it

and abused us and destroy our lives'

 It echoes ours exactly

but we have no one to tell

 Coming here, we wanted to be british

so we did as british did

 expected to become part of them

expected their law to care for us

 Then their most evil attacked us

in every possible evil way

 you are so vulnerable

so boringly good they wrote

 just as the Godfather said

we found it doesn't work that way

 But we have no Godfather

to help us here

 Only our honesty and hard work

most of our people long gone over the pond

 Hard work?

I don't like to blow my own trumpet

 but shortly you will again for the umpteenth time

watch my ideas and phrases on Eastenders yet again

 The lab St Barths has had us as lab rats

to torture and rob and kill since eighty four

 on  their machine given them by the States

Nothing new has been found but much drowned

 except how to abuse more corruptly

such brilliant technology abused

 First they gave fails

and killed my lecturers

(sorry it's called manslaughter)

 then they gave low marks

It, that is me,  is the lab plaything now used for practice

 Not a human to us so called lab crap

But we are humans

 Then they decided

all we do and have done, is theirs

 besides using us for torture wholesale

'The Royals sadly chose the side of evil

 so can not now get out of it'  I quote this..

So again, more of my ideas

 will ring out of Eastenders

The L.A. Jew who designed this

 ordered this - make her work a household name

then she can never talk and yours will never be caught

 and so they did and have

as they continue torture to do

 Now a new twist

the directed thefts

 all work used is robbed

from our little two up two down

 so I can never prove its origins.

They say this is for England's future

 They say the jews of the lab began it

scared of being caught for what they had done

 and then it was continued

and will be continued

 raising their mediocre friends from nothings

such a corrupt country as Nero burns

 It is a sad world we came to

worse in many ways than Hitler's and Stalin's

 There at least we knew what and how to fight

and how and whom they were murdering

 The English do everything in secret

from killing their highest

 Should I tell all I know whom will they damage

Plenty of others know, -so you got away with it all?

 but history teaches us

England was always so

 Secrecy is so the population will not find out

as all the lab would all serve life sentences

 Secrecy is so it will not be found out in the future

as then the reputation of the country would suffer

 Strange country we came to

Wish we had a Godfather to help us..

 and the reason for this massive secret programme

against the population?

 seems totally pointless for anything

except the using of pure evil.

 we've seen it all before, where we came from..

when people do great injustices

 they always seek to convince themselves

that what they have done is just

 the writers are told

that they research, wished me to begin anew

 Told as I walked by Princess Alexandra Hospital

I must become a high class Prostitute by their boss

 heck, I was fifty and had had five children

crazy people, running a secret sex programme

 One day I might spill what they do in hospitals

especially as I nursed people there

 The devil incarnate

here in London...

 ..and sadly, I had no Godfather, only Godmothers

Dr. Milada Cernackova and Maria Simkova

 who baptised me in the chapel at Zochova Uliza

27th May the russians were in Bratislava

 and newly born mites were baptised quickly

whilst they still could.

 There were no men left!

  THE BLACK DEATH

They call it the 'Full-Monty'

It is what they do

when a government department

has made a very bad mistake

which within the population

would be called a crime

and that crime is discovered.

 With modern technology

and the friendly americans

who give away secrets

far too easily

to anyone at all

bless them

the full Monty

means just that

 and step by step

just as in Camp Five

(not for nothing

did the jewish scientist

in the States

refuse to take part..

It is just like

Camp Five, this

he said, no way)

 Now it is pustules

One Indian at the lab

wanted to prove

a mole could be made cancerous

(on me, on the machine)

I am not considered a human

they tell me

whilst sighing about

Auschwitz

The same jews we had saved back then!

 Before I set off for China

to teach there for a bit of a rest

though I love my tiny two up two down

little miners cottage

here on the foot of the Pennines

they put on the machine

on which I am kept prisoner

Pustules and sores

 Huge red pustules appeared on my hands

with thick yellow matter in them

then on my legs

My chinese pupils were very brave

not once mentioned them

I could not hide them

writing on the board..

slowly they dried in the chinese sun

Though someone on high

did say rather sharply

'do we really need the plague?'

 This is a favourite trick of the lab

using China for alsorts of pusillanimous acts

Once they took out my hair by half

which is what they do to the retarded

as punishment

from the machine

then tried to blame it on Chinese shampoo

and Lynne at Hommerton

carried on long after I returned to England

a few, a few, a few

just as they work

a few crimes, a few crimes, a few crimes

and no one will ever notice..

 The Pakistanis who run this show now

toilet cleaners and health workers originally

now being given the heights

exams all passed and all that crap

which the lab does in fact

merely laughed

(I quote them:

We hacked your bank account

and took five thousand for ourselves)

this is what happens in OUR country

Here we are allowed anything

It is so delicious

to torture elderly white teachers..

Anything at all

torturing british whites

 Last night he adding:

I have been torturing for Anna

of the Lab St Barths

for five years

and this country is much, much

much more corrupt than ours.

Well, I had always told them that

We have the two extremes here.

 The spite element?

always there with this lab

I had never suffered spots

and though not pretty as such

had always had totally clear skin.

 They now have new people in the lab

as they give the whole world

every advance the Americans had made

using us helpless useful citizens

TO THESE FOREIGNERS

They have a whole bevy of women

to use for their experiments

for them to practice on now

BRITISH CITIZENS

TOTALLY UNPROTECTED...

When patients died in the past

The Anna was heard to say

'they are so weak!'

 She gave permission the lab said

here is the form

here is her signature

but I never saw the form to read

I was never given any form

Nurse Hughes at West Ham Community Health

just yelled to sign or else

in May ninety-one..

 An East London solicitor

trying to find this form for me

after three solicitors had tried to find it

even found a form at St Barths

with my signature on it

Signed as I sat at the desk

of East London University

at a lecture on Business Studies

 Signatures and films

in England

are meaningless!

Putative thought that all is safe is mistaken

DON'T SIGN ANYTHING IN THIS COUNTRY

especially if it is a medical form - you think..

 My dad the writer Telewny

had Small pox as a kid in his native Ukraine

his face was pock marked

They were taken to a Gulag

for telling the truth

I remind myself

with each mark I look at from the pustules

nothing has changed!

 England will destroy the West

single handed.....

Nothing has changed.

 HISTORY

 Basically

Half of the history

of mankind

has been

ousting people out of their own place

 or ousting people who have come to stay

often for long periods

even of hundreds of years

in 'some one elses' place

often welcome for a while

 Consider, all through history

this has been the case

which is why

I would like to see a borderless world

having only one little twinge

 should a cow fly with a butterfly

should a snake give milk

should bird pull a plough

should a fish stand guard

should a worm fly to the sky

 people are likewise types

from places which are types

to which they have become suited

to which they build an inner attachment

which is built into them

 what balance are upsetting?

 When as a girl

come to the shores of England

(not of our own will, but invited)

longed to be like this new nation

having been a refugee and orphan

moving onwards since life's begin

emulated them in every way

went to Church of England schools

attended Church of England church

 Mavis from over the road

sternly spoke to me

"Renate Telewny

do not imagine you can be english

you will have to stay for three generations

then we will give consideration

if it is possible for yours

to join this nation."

 I had not listened properly

yet time and again

the same hammer was beaten

the same gong sounded

Now at last I have to listen!

 THE LABOUR PARTY ANEW

  She doesn't talk of what she knows

She won't say openly what is going on

She picks carefully what she reveals

She  is too close-mouthed

 We can't catch her out

We can't ridicule her

We can't destroy her reputation

We can't make her talk

 Get her to join the Labour Party again

We will get her to talk

To tell the truth of what is going on

To tell all she knows

 Then we'll get her on that one

Once a cheerful happy soul

Friendly to everyone

Chatty and trusting

 Do these English have any idea

what we come from

what it was like

to survive under Hitler and Stalin

 Exactly, BUT EXACTLY, like living here

on the machine of St Barths Human Research

which has no laws but its own

exactly as it was then....

 They call it an opportunity

to try out what  they please however evil

exactly what Hitler called it

Exactly what Stalin did.

 DID SHE REALLY SAY THAT?

 because you never talk about people

we did it for you

it was another of the damages

we put you through.

 The Ministries and their mistress

ensure no jobs mainstream

for our family

as they cannot afford

the scandal

incase someone, anyone

heard the truth.

 so a tiny, one man business I ran

often very successful

too successful

for the Ministries and their mistress

 It grew on my reputation

for good value

promises upheld

and total trust

as has always been the case.

 In old Bratislava

the massive jewish tailors

knew they could trust

the work of the little Hungarian

knew that he would never cheat them

no matter what happened

 ....and before that

our family was successful

as servants to our aristocratic families

Sumeg or where ever

as we could be trusted

it has always been the case

no matter what happened

 My clients

mainly Muslims

like the same qualities

so the lab had to break that trust

 "we destroyed your business

in this simple way

and other ways.."

 You never gossip

...I don't feel the need to

I write and paint

read of things and listen to music

I can't remember the nuns our mothers

gossiping when I was a child

with fifty and more children to care for

to grow our food and care for our home

why waste time in gossiping...

there are so many interesting things to do..

so we did it for you.

 Used by the lab

were the worst of RMN's

It makes me wonder

what exactly these women do

in their hospitals

 They tell me

stirring up trouble

destroying people

causing misery

is their job.

 I seem to remember

our nuns tried to make us happier!

 I wonder what that lab said I'd said.....

No I don't

They have nasty minds

It is better not to stoop as low

as those who live in evil deeds.

 ABOUT BABY GIRLS

 This is not my story

but there is a similarity

The words are not mine

but I will repeat them

to make people aware

even if they don't like to hear..

 This happens to so many little girls

from very tiny on

men, often from the same family

work them with their finger

constantly from babyhood

until the rupture is not noticed

 They then use them for themselves

Big brothers, uncles, nephews, men..

Often when these girls marry

Their new husbands beat them

However hard we try

it is impossible to keep our girls safe

say the mothers..

 I personally know of one woman

whose mother put her bed next to an old man

On her wedding morning to her young cousin

she was found in a pool of blood

 He has beaten her ever since

Though she was and is an excellent wife

even when she was holding their baby

till blood ran from her head

onto their baby

He blames her.

 One man answered this charge

This man is a professional at the lab

where several child rapists are employed..

Every man wants a young thing

not some woman

so we make them our own from birth.

 Babies and children are helpless

I left my children's home nuns at nearly eight

to come to live with a forgotten mother

and her new husband

in a new country..

underfed-

the size of a three year old they said

- thin and scared.

 She would send me in to the room of another man

'take uncle a cup of tea'

then took the silver he gave me away

He would sexually abuse me

constantly.

Later I hid.

 I could not tell her

I was a stranger to them

She was a stranger to me

I could not tell my new father

he was even a different nationality to me

as was the man

who was the same nationality as my new father.

I couldn't tell my new countrymen

They were different to me

I was a foreigner..

 My mother was a clever woman

but stupid in the wickedness of the world

a little, rich girl

educated by private Convent.

 When at sixteen a man really fell in love with me

had not touched me

wanted to marry me

she asked the doctor to do a virginity test

What the hell for

I was healthy and clever

The Italian lived a long way away

and anyway wanted to marry me

begging for one long year to do so.

 Though a Star Fighter pilot

the Italians had taken her beloved Tyrol!

I have to tell you something funny here

We also are part Italian in part of our family

her paternal grandmother's name was Bertodi!

Such a silly, with her passion for her Austria

-explanation, her mother was Austrian.

 Girls are always alone

Girls are rarely believed against adults

Girls are not believed by adults

Girls are helpless

Girls are smaller

Girls who are small are picked on

Girls are taught to obey

 I admire the girls, unlike me

who are lippy, mouthy and noisy, shouty..

I know they are safer girls

than the quiet girls, like me.

 I taught my own daughter to speak out.

These poor little mites

are having this happening NOW

Right NOW

this day

this moment

NOW

They have no way out

and many, many, many people know about it.

 I will get a bad name repeating it

I do not care

I know how much I suffered

So I know how much they suffer.

It is time doctors and others did something.

I begin to despair at doctors

 One of mine began a life of horror for me and mine

diagnosing a stress headache as an extra need for sex

(with five children?) which he said he had..

and to cover some of his odd actions

gave our name to Research to use as they wished, secretly..

 For crying out loud

what are doctors supposed to be for..........

 PLAGER ENOUGH

 quotes at 2.15 p.m. on Saturday over the t.v.

transmissions constantly broken into..

besides microsound

(sound on computer broken up and replaced on coordinates)

 If we plager her enough

she can't do anything about it.

Give them Rights to her work

 We had to destroy your heart

(you can feel when they press your heart valves

Four years ago I had one hundred percent health

and the British don't torture?)

 We did that to your mother and father

It is so we can say it is a family thing

Every torture possible was tried on you

There is no way you can prove it

there is no way you can stop us

We call it weakening you.

 We destroy absolutely everything

we don't count the cost

you are not a human being for us

not even a subhuman

we watch what can be rebuilt

 Unfortunately you won't play our game

No body knows

but everybody knows

we put it on films and ads

 Have you been seeding clouds

Yes, if you see it on films

believe it

we order the films to be made

a gradual introduction...

 ALAN GARETH – TEA LEAF

 Al came to the lab

Al took forty five paintings

from the machine at the lab

(they give all I do out

from that machine

from which they torture daily..

would that the americans

had kept their discoveries

in their well policed country)

all of them mine, sitting illegally at the lab

St Barths Human Research

 Al was asked by Anna

Mistress of Ministers and Civil Servants

who had used the new technology indiscriminately

amongst the people without telling

finally making a mistake

which many on high saw

 Anna asked Al

mix and match with yours

blend and personalise her work as yours

that is what they all have to do

later with directed thieving

we will rob all they have-

a poor lone mum with kids

 Anna had already put the order out

prison for the kids

having destroyed the family background

(it is called a live experiment they say?)

any pretext

two weeks for speeding

and three months in a category B

(rapists and murderers)

for a nineteen year old

standing guard for a friend pinching videos!!

(doesn't matter what for

once on record)

 Did you know the brits were so cruel

we certainly didn't

we refugees

poached from Australia

to come here in the forties

worked hard

never did any wrong

lived in poverty

for this freedom..

that's a laugh now

Yet they give terrorists who despise them

every freedom..

 (If I wern't a decent person

I'd laugh at them)

I have in my second book

which the lab has robbed from everywhere

along with the first

printed the copy of a form

the promise Britain made to us

if we would only come and live here and work

if we were respectable citizens

we would be treated as such

such liars...

 such liars they are

you all know

I loved the nuns of Bavaria

the mothers of my childhood at both Homes

the sharp and sweet of them

but they should have told me the truth

not glorified this place they were sending me to

Only the boys told the truth

fifty boys and five girls we were

and three nuns to care and grow for us

they said seven foot men on huge steeds

in red coats on horses would come and hunt me

and chase me into a corner into a hole...

 rather like the dreams I had later

when I had to run across a blackened Europe

on our bellies to save my last son

take him to my children's home in Bavaria

empty when we got there

he was safe

but a thousand green hands

dragged me under all night..

 and as for my new mum

with her glorious ideas of the Empire and the british

Couldn't they have guessed in old Royal Hungary

how the Empire was won

So much is never won by kindness

it is taken.......

thieves, thieves, thieves

that is what they said Esther Rantzen had said

then they beamed a mucky film

(supposed to be of me but yous all know me better)

into her studio

so that the woman I had stuck up for

also turned against me

Bad judges these jews!

 Nor at my C. of E schools

(where I was pretty happy- I liked school)

we did lots of stories about the Empire

little black men up trees throwing down coconuts

and I painted the pictures to go with the stories

and nasty evil Bible stories

going on in Israel, not here

but I forgot

my grandad had said

England is built on the money of the Jews..

and he knew

we had a man from the woollen industry

he came yearly to sell us navy blue

for the jews whom we clothed

back there in old Bratislava,

No one told the truth ever.......

 Now alan is having an exhibition of my work

with a line or two of his in it

with directed thieving

the young people

the slim young girl with black hair

living close by

taught by the lab to be thieves

(the only thing the lab teaches

is how to cheat, thieve and worse)

are now going to copy the paintings in my books

thieved by them

directed by the lab

 (the lab has used about ten thieves

I quote them)

 sektches of my daughter's godfather's suicide

they used to live in the opposite barrack to us

there at Warsaw Hamlet Refugee Camp

on the Lincolnshire Wolds

of our journey to the West

of our deaths and our lives

of bridges crossed

of orphanages and children's homes on the way to here

of all the horror we have gone through

(mustn't say, the English don't like it..

I was told over and over again)

which had never been spoken of before

we never speak of it

none of us

it sits in our hearts

so now english are robbing it all

to make money from our pain

 so finally I had put it all into paintings

though some at the College didn't like them

the Head Faulkner would smile

'well little Mrs artist, what today?'

 all done whilst at Art College

here in Sheffield our home

where they over tuned my lecturer

and a few more

(it's called manslaughter)

 Al the thief is a cheat

as are all those the lab sponsored..

a country full of cheats

 the boy who was tuned to steal all our histories

finds it is too foreign

he doesn't know how to use it

yet..

the lab used passage after passage

directed constant theft

is their cover...

  when it is all over

their Doctor Meyer had thought

we will return it all back to the home

as though nothing has happened...

 you were not supposed to write

or have been a real painter

we just didn't check anything

we never check anything

 and we chose this for our home?

 WOT PARTY?

 to all those of you

who have read

Semen Telewny's work

 to the Ukrainian millionaire

who wanted to sponsor him

to come to America

 and then stupidly

took him to the underground

in New York

 and frightened the daylights

out of him

a Kulak and a small town guy

 and those who knew Hilda

who though a terrible tempered

Hun who would fight anything

 but not now at ninety..

with her memory gone

but healthy and hearty in a way

 please know

regards recent issues

SHE WAS NEVER A MEMBER OF THE NAZI PARTY!

SHE WAS NEVER A MEMBER OF ANY PARTY..

 I  am the party member not she

of the Socialist Party..

and my dad wrote about the Parties

and their many foibles

 he used to say

young a communist

middle aged a liberal

old a conservative!

 Hilda's great delight had always been

that she had never once

raised her hand in salute

 though she had spoken to some of the mightiest!

(Hun's are a bit mad

even Hitler's mob realised that)

 and as a family

we live and have always lived by honesty

which is not always appreciated by liars and cheats

 end of that trial.

Now they have given me horrendous sores

Still claiming we are volunteers!

 PROVE IT SAYS THE TORY....

 MINISTERS AND MISTRESSES

 IT would take

just a few laws

to take away

the total power

which Ann of the lab

St Barths Human Research

the old concentration camp system

of Auschwitz, Belsen and the rest

and to leave them powerless

or controlled..

 to which she adds

"George of the New York lab'

has been been on the line

severel times.

If he thinks

we will help him again

he has another think coming."

 I seem to remember

it was George of the New York lab

who came to the assistance

when the London lab

has set off the alarms

at Santa Monica

and committed

gross crimes

international and national.

 George would have done well

to remember the past

Churchill in thirty nine

stood up in parliament

and said

'No jews, unless rich..'

personally, I think

they are all of them cracked!

 Should Blair have a third term

Anna of the lab St Barths was asked

No, he must go..

King maker and breaker now

as well as murderers?

 ETHEL OF SURBATON

   Ethel says she lives a life of comfort

Ethel says it is all due to the work given

Ethel copies all my twenty years of work to the word

 Ethel had one or two small successes before my stuff

Ethel had all her work returned from printers

Ethel copied exactly as told by the lab

 Ethel now sells all her stuff mainly to the t.v.

Ethel still copies all my stories and all sell

Ethel is also on the machine at the lab St Barths....

 Ethel wasn't ashamed when I saw her

Ethel was at my end of town

Ethel didn't recognise me from their illegal processing

 Ethel didn't have to run for lunch between teaching

Ethel should maybe come to East Ham College to see me

Ethel is too dishonest to do that and knows it....

 What with Ethel, Mrs Cricklewood

with Emma, with Brierley and all the rest--

we're allowed to destroy all the stuff given of yours

as for the devious Ernestine and Friedlander

the list goes on and on

 The stuff science can do now that I know of..

you think in the future you won't be known

as the cheats you are mix and matching or not

robbing University work and processing..

 Ethel, swaying her long brown hair

Ethel's hair is straight, unlike herself

Ethel, the cheat, now no longer has writer's block!

 and with the directed thieving

of all work from our tiny miner's house

and the wiping of half of my work off the computer

with their high power illegal lab computers

 Ethel need never worry

Ethel and the rest's cheating is covered

by the Lab St Barths Human Research....

 ALL FROM HER BOOKS..

 All this taking of words

all this taking of phrases

all this taking of sayings

 are they mad

are they sad

are they just bad

 simple idea by Ziegler of New York

(hope you had no cousins

in old Bratislava's jewish area

where we lived and gave to all)

barely known writer?

our writers pushed and raised to the top

 each newspaper

each type of book

each type of novel

every magazine

 no one will know

every one will think

all she has taken from all those books

though written long ago

into books much has been printed

 but don't worry

they are none of them professionals

the Americans told us how to do it

 If all professionals can do

is copy work

given them from a lab

which no longer cares for the retarded

 I am not sure what it is to be a professional

 TEENS..

 I have the need to share

something I have just been told over my t.v. remote

 presumably another research worker at St Barths

who abuses small children along with his co-workers

 There is no problem in this, he put over

They come when they are in their teens!

 Would this pervert male

like to let me know

 why our Creator, nature

what ever you like to call your God

 made childhood for?

just for his criminal lusts and those like him?

 Sorry guys, if I had the power,  I would have an answer

how to cope with you all so you never, ever did it again.

 UNBELIEVABLE

 Even Curry put some of it into her books

Even Blair used some in his speeches

They all came in and used it

Off the machine at St Barths Human Research.

 We thought you had signed

to be used

that is what we were told

no one checked!

 All those jokes were theirs

family jokes from all of them

right across the media

we sent them off in our names

 and all those opinions

we listen to you constantly

all are immediately sent off

here is another opinion/fact we say

 Why?

 The lab had tagged us illegally

nineteen eighty four

the bossess had given our work

to all her friends at the Ministries

 to curry favour she asked the politicians in too

do help yourself

our victims don't mind

they all came into the lab

 as all her staff had written down straight off the screen

and sent it to where ever they wanted

Monologues, stories and what ever

she had to cover them all

 Friedlander tells us today

he was told I was at an orgy

(I've only ever been to two parties

and they were no orgies)

and I don't want any of the work anyway

so he could use it all

 Then they added

Friedlander is an idiot

and all the rest of them

idiots to be used by such a scam

 so that way the lab is safe

by the total criminalisation of the whole country

to cover the gross misconduct

of one little gov. lab which should care for the retarded

 added the bossess

"I gave the Ministers and Civil Servants my body

they have to take care of me!"

Major didn't do anything, nor did Thatcher...

 Blair helped the criminals of criminals to crime

few know what he did to his country

such is western freedom. Artists artificially created.

Freedom for whom. Setting off international alarms

 gross misconduct used to be a crime

and they had already had a warning

 We (tv) had to ask

Did Prince Charles use her work too?

answer:

Yes!

 Yea Gods!

[thepsychewrites]

Little Dove | S. Rogers

Professor!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Summary: College wasn’t what you were expecting it to be. You didn’t have many friends, you didn’t party on the weekends, and your homework was always in on time. Things take a turn when your World War II instructor, Professor Rogers, asks you to stay behind one day after class. What will happen when lines get blurred, feelings get hurt, and two people from vastly different life paths fall in love?

> Word Count: 2.2K 

> Warnings: 18+ MDNI; Age gap (Steve is in his early thirties, reader is twenty in this part), some mild language and thotty thoughts, history talk, no smut in this part. 

A/N: AHHHHHHHHH this series will ruin me. I can’t wait to put it out. It’s gonna be so good and nasty. While this part is not explicit itself, most of the series will be, so MDNI and 18+ guys. I have no idea when the next parts will be out as I have other wips that need to be worked on, but AHHHHHHH I’m so excited for this you guys have no idea. Comments, likes, reblogs, and feedback is super appreciated! Love you guys <3

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College was far from what you were expecting.

Parties, frats, friends, blacking out on a Tuesday in some randoms bathroom...

That’s what you were told was the “college experience”. Something everyone gets to go through as a right of passage once you get there. 

They were so, so wrong. 

Days spent in the library, nose in a book, pens out and ready to take notes- that’s what you got instead. It wasn’t the worst- your grades were fantastic and you were popular among the professors in your major’s department. 

Maybe it was just that you loved learning and would do anything for good grades. Maybe it was just your anxiety. It didn’t help that you were already a junior, only four semesters left to go until you graduated with such little social experience under your belt.

Your favorite professor of the semester had to be Professor Rogers, your World War Two instructor. To be fair- he was popular amongst most of the undergraduates in your major- the guys liking his in-depth descriptions of events of the 30s and 40s and the girls enjoying that and the view. You couldn’t lie, Professor Rogers was insanely handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. Or they could hear it in his voice when he spoke during lectures, the depth of it alone enough to make you blush. Or, maybe if they got lucky, you could smell how handsome he was from the high-end cologne he often wore, the amber and sandalwood notes drifting through the classroom and lingering there all day. 

It’s the class you were sitting in now, head down and hovering over your notebook as you quickly wrote notes while he spoke about the Battle of Midway. 

“The Japanese lost approximately three thousand and fifty seven men, four carriers, one cruiser, and hundreds of aircraft, while the United States lost approximately three hundred and sixty two men, one carrier, one destroyer, and one hundred and forty four aircrafts. Any questions?” Professor Rogers said, turning to face the class of twenty students, his hands shoved into the pockets of his dark blue dress pants. 

Nearly ten hands raised, most of them just wanting to hear him speak for as long as possible before class was over. He chuckled lightly before he began answering question after question, your notes abandoned now that he was done with the lecture. You rested your head on your palm, your elbow dug into the solid wooden desk as you allowed yourself to zone out. His voice carried through the classroom, fluctuating slightly when he got to the last few questions. The room eventually got quiet, and you hadn’t realized most of the students had filtered out. Your attention was caught again when a large shadow loomed over your desk, amber and sandalwood flooding your senses, making you peer up. 

“Did today’s lesson bore you, Miss Y/l/n?” Professor Rogers asked, a gentle grin on his face.

You hummed, shaking your head. “Not too much. Your way of explaining Midway was great.” 

His grin grew into a full smile. “Well, I don’t think it helps that you’re already well versed on the topic. Not sure why you even took this course when you seem to know more about it than I do.” His pen dragged along the edge of your desk.

“It was this or Dr. Romanoff’s Russian Empire class and I’d much rather keep my gpa where it’s at.” You smiled back, the casual banter between you two a normalcy at this point. It was somehow easier for you to connect with your professors than it was your peers, and you and Professor Rogers had build a good rapport despite it only being a couple of weeks into the semester.  

His eyes were soft on yours and you internally wished you had a photographic memory to capture how he was looking at you. Something you’d gladly look back on any chance you got. 

“Have you started your research paper yet?” He asked, knowing you always liked to stay ahead of schedule. 

Your hands moved under the desk, your thumbs twiddling around each other. “I know this might sound shocking, but I have not. I’m just having a difficult time narrowing down a topic.” 

“Well, you have plenty of time to figure it out, but if you had any ideas you wanted to bounce around… this is my last class of the day. You can stay and we can discuss it if you’d like.” Professor Rogers offered, his brows slightly raised while he waited for an answer. 

You really did need help to figure out a topic. Plus, who could say no to spending extra time with Professor Rogers? Even if it was only to discuss your research paper. You’d be an idiot to pass up the opportunity. 

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that a lot, Professor.” You agreed, placing your notebook and pen back in your book bag. 

“Great,” He started, walking down to his rectangular desk at the front and throwing a leather satchel over his shoulder. “We can move to my office if that’s alright, less noisy.” He said, motioning with his hand to the hallway outside. 

You nodded, grabbing your book bag and following his lead. His office was connected to the classroom, so it wasn’t a long walk until the both of you were inside and he was closing the door behind you. 

He cleared his throat, running a hand over his beard as he shuffled around to his desk chair. “Go ahead- have a seat, make yourself comfortable.” His voice was a little less formal now as he spoke to only you, something you took note of. It was still just as alluring, but less… intense, perhaps. 

It was the first time you had ever been in his office. The two of you were alone, on top of that. You allowed yourself to look around, noticing the various decorations he had that cozied up the place. He had a few framed pictures, none of them featuring any sort of wife or kids, a bookshelf with its contents in pristine condition, a rubix cube and some small wooden puzzles, his degree framed and hanging on the wall behind him, some posters of World War Two propaganda, and a coat rack in the corner. It seemed very fitting, to say the least. 

You sat yourself in the big leather chair across from his desk, crossing your legs at the thigh and untensing your shoulders. It was close enough to him that you could hear him breathing and your shoe was grazing the bottom of the desk, but far away enough to where you hoped he couldn’t see the flush in your face. 

“Would you like some water or coffee or anything?” Professor Rogers offered, taking a quick swig of his own mug of black coffee. 

“Oh, no thank you I’m fine.” 

He threw you a tight lipped smile before asking to see what notes you’ve gathered so far. You reached down into your bag, grabbing your notebook back out and opening to the messily scribbled on page. 

“So, my ideas for the topic are between the Blitzkrieg against Holland and Belgium, Dunkirk and Operation Dynamo, or Normandy and Operation Overlord.” You said, watching your professor read through the detailed notes you had jotted down about each one. 

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes studying you.“You know- my colleagues weren’t wrong when they told me how great of a student you are. I guess I just didn’t expect this level of responsibility and brightness.” 

He’s talked about you?

If your face was hot before- it was nearly melting now. “Oh, thank you, Professor. I’ve always been really invested in my studies, so…”

“It’s admirable, Y/n. In my seven years of teaching here I have yet to come across a student of your caliber. You raise the bar, that’s for sure.” 

“Oh, now you’re just being too nice-” 

He shook his head. “No, it’s completely true. Each time I grade something of yours I feel dumb. And I was a World War Two nerd back in the day.” 

Your heart was fluttering like crazy and you felt like if he kept complimenting you like this you’d just explode right there in his fancy, and probably super expensive, leather office chair. “Thank you, Professor. I apologize for making you feel stupid.” You joked with a grin, hoping to lighten the air that surrounded you, the one that was drowning you in his scent. 

A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “Apology accepted. Now back to your paper…” 

Professor Rogers sat there and talked with you, giving you amazing feedback on what topics he thought would work best, as well as writing down sources you could check out and use. By the time the two of you had wrapped up the sun was gone for the day, replaced by her sister glowing high and full in the obsidian sky. 

“Shoot-” You started, glancing down at your watch and noticing the time. It was a quarter to ten. “I should probably get going. I didn’t even realize what time it was, sorry for keeping you here so long.” You finally stood, gathering your strewn out notes and shoving them into your bag before you tossed it on your back. 

He stood too, reaching for his coat and satchel. “It’s not a problem, Y/n. Why don’t you let me drive you back to your dorm? It’s probably not too safe to walk there alone this late.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t ask you to do that- it’s okay.”  You attempted to decline, not wanting your professor to go out of his way to drive you home when you’ve already taken up his night. 

Once again, he shook his head. “You’re not asking, I offered and I insist. I’m sure you know how sketchy this campus can be after dark.” 

You bit at your lip. “Are you sure?” 

He moved to the door, his car keys twirling between his fingers. “Positive. C’mon.” He said as he held his office door open, the lights in the classroom already off. You threw him a sweet smile, slipping between the open door and waiting for him as he locked his office up. 

The walk to the parking lot wasn’t long and was spent mostly in silence. The both of you came to a stop next to the only car left in the lot- a deep red Chrysler 300, and he moved to open the passenger door for you. You whispered a timid thank you.

His car was in such good condition you wondered if your professor was a secret germaphobe. It smelled like it had just been cleaned recently, too, but a single Black Ice air freshener hung from the rear view mirror, swaying slightly from the door closing once you were in. Your breathing was labored, heart nearly in your ass at the thought of being in your professor's car. Alone. 

He climbed in just a moment later, shoving the keys into the ignition and letting the car whir to life. He looked over at you, already watching his movements intently. 

“Where to?” He asked, that familiar grin back on his face. 

You told him which residence hall you lived in, albeit a lot shakier than you intended to. He gave a nod, turning onto the main road in the direction of your dorm. 

It was silent for a moment, but his voice rang out, startling you a bit. “I hope you didn't mind me being too forward with wanting to drive you home, but I would have been uncomfortable making you walk back by yourself this late.” 

Oh fuck-

Oh sweet Jesus fucking Christ- 

His hand had found a home on your thigh as he spoke, his warmth radiating through your jeans and into your skin, traveling somewhere that made you wanna- 

“It’s fine, I just didn’t want to inconvenience you.” You managed to get out, completely and utterly baffled at how composed you sounded when you were on the verge of whimpering from his huge hand being so close to your- 

He squeezed his hand down, your denim clad flesh tingling under his palm. And just as quickly as he put it there he retracted it, settling it back down on his own leg. “Not an inconvenience in the slightest. I promise.” He assured.

You hadn’t realized the car had stopped in front of your residence hall until your professor put the car in park. You glanced out the window before speaking. “Thanks again for driving me here, Professor Rogers.” 

“Steve. You can just call me Steve- outside of class, I should specify.” He said, eyes finding yours in the low light of the car's interior. 

You nearly choked on your breath. 

Outside of class? What the fuck does that mean? 

“Okay... well, thank you again- Steve.” You emphasized the name, smiling as you opened the passenger door and stepped out, grabbing your bag. Before you could close the door he called out. 

“Have a good night, Y/n. See you Wednesday.” 

“Yeah, see you then.” You said, finally shutting the car door and turning to walk inside, your eyes wide and your stomach doing an entire gymnastics routine. Your keys fumbled in your hands and you internally groaned, hoping he wasn’t still watching you even though you knew his car hadn’t left yet. 

Your roommate, Yelena, was pacing in the kitchen when you got back, a half-eaten tub of ice cream held against her stomach. 

“Dude! Where the hell have you been? You never get home this late- I was contemplating calling the cops.” She yelled through a bite of cookie dough. 

The day's events swirled in your mind, a slight smile pulling at your lips. Your back leaned against the door, your thoughts racing. 

“Oh you know- the library.” You lied. 

“The library closes at eight on Mondays.” 

You giggled, a dreamy stare lingering in your eyes as you made your way to your room. “Uh huh- goodnight Yelena” 

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